The Relevance of Spike
by Stakeaclaim
Summary: Spike is tired of Angel treating him as if he’s irrelevant. He's decided that today is the day it changes... No spoilers. COMPLETE. Update: story nominated for Fang Fetish award!
1. Default Chapter

**_Disclaimer_:**

Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

_**Distribution:**_

www'dot'geocities'dot'com/stakeaclaim0 Anyone else, if you would like it please drop me a line first.

_**Summary:**_

Spike is tired of Angel treating him as if he's irrelevant. Today is the day it changes.

**_A/N:_**

My thanks to Stars for beta-ing this and also for her wonderful encouragement. The website is new and you will find a couple of fictions that I haven't previously published, so please take a look.

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**The Relevance of Spike**

The alarm went off.

Opening one eye, he reached out and gave it a solid thwack, groaned at the bloody ridiculous time, was about to say bollocks to it and turn back into the snuggling warmth of his bed when he remembered what day it was. His eyes shot open and he rolled from his bed in a snarled heap of limbs and bedding. Cursing as he disentangled sheets from his body, he ran a hand through tousled hair and hauled himself into the shower. The hot, stinging spray sluiced over his body and he couldn't contain a sigh of satisfaction as the heat penetrated and warmed even his cold flesh. He turned his face to it and the last remnants of sleep were washed from his eyes.

It was a big day. A hundred and twenty-five years. A quarter of the way through his second century and he'd decided today was the day it was all going to change. Today was the day he would finally break it. Break their ongoing, bloody and destructive cycle of one and a quarter centuries. He dressed with care. His boots were polished and every hair forcibly gelled into place.

He arrived early. He meant business. He had a briefcase.

Not only that, the briefcase actually contained real work with some real plans, outlining ideas on how to take forward their fight against evil. After all, he was a master vampire and you didn't get to that position or reach his age without the ability to conceive a cunning plan or two.

Spike watched the dark figure shouldering his way out of the elevator and waited for him, a tentative smile of welcome on his face.

Angel frowned. There was always so much to do and, once more, he'd ended up working through the night just to keep on top of it. The first thing that met his eyes as the elevator doors swished open was the beacon-blonde head. Oh frigging fantastic! Spike grinning at him inanely, carrying a stupid briefcase as though that was all it took to make a contribution. He rolled his eyes.

"Angel." Spike greeted him.

"Great. Just what I needed. Boy Idiot playing at businessman."

Spike's smile was left hanging precariously on his face. The brush of Angel's shoulders caused it to teeter, slide and fall. Fred found him still standing there.

"Hey, Spike. Better hurry. Meeting's about to start."

Spike took a breath and remembered what day it was. Today was the day. If not now, then when? He let go of the tension and the calmness from the morning flooded back. With a determined lift of his head he followed Fred in.

Twenty minutes of good intentions and then a spark of anger, an answering flare and the morning meeting ended abruptly with Spike kicking back his chair and storming out in a swirl of leather and fury. Wesley and Fred exchanged a look of wordless understanding and she left to catch up with the blonde whirlwind. Lorne and Gunn melted away, leaving Wesley to face the dark storm hanging over the conference room.

Angel gritted his teeth as he watched the petulant display so typical of Spike.

"A little harsh, perhaps?" Wesley commented, raising his eyebrows.

"Harsh! Explain to me, Wes, what exactly does he do here?"

'…besides stomp, snark and irritate the hell out of everyone?' Angel just managed to prevent the words from slipping out and losing any sort of moral high ground he may have gained. Instead he contented himself with glowering at the receding figure.

"I have to say, you have made it rather self-evident that you don't want him involved with our work here and when he does persist, it seems a gross injustice to tell him his views are immaterial and that he himself is irrelevant..."

"And this temperamental outburst of his just proves my point." Angel continued, without hearing a word Wesley said. "He's not part of the team. He's selfish and self-centred."

Sometimes Angel could be so incredibly dense, it made Wesley want to shake him.

"He's a recently souled, back from the dead vampire. Tell me, what were you doing one hundred years ago?" He pointed out gently.

Those words did penetrate through Angel's tirade. He frowned in annoyance at the implied criticism. Wesley was _his_ friend,_ his_ employee, and he took this partisan display badly.

"Sheesh, what the hell is it with him? Everyone always takes his side!"

"I'm not…"

Wesley shook his head and gave up. Spike brought out the childish side of Angel's nature and nothing he said would change it, sparks always flew when the two vampires were together and Wesley idly wondered how they'd managed to exist for twenty years, side-by-side without killing each other. He followed the others, leaving a surly vampire sitting at his desk, glaring at his monitor and muttering darkly.

"Always: 'Poor Spike. Look how well he copes with his new soul. Why aren't you more like him, Angel?' Two weeks in a frigging basement. Try a hundred years living in alleys and gnawing on rats…."

Fred hastily followed Spike as he flapped angrily down the corridor like a giant raven of doom.

He dug into his pockets, retrieved his lighter and cigarettes, flipped a fag in his mouth and lit-up. A long inhalation and the nicotine worked its magic, the tension flowing out with the smoke he exhaled. He'd tried, but it just wasn't going to work. Only a cataclysmic tilt of the continental plates was gonna shift Angel's view. He gave up. Maybe try again when he reached one and a half centuries.

He noticed someone looking at him in disapproval.

"Yeah?"

Deliberate belligerence coloured his voice, which for some reason seemed to raise the man's hackles. A vein throbbed in his forehead, reminding Spike of the git.

"You do realise that this is a public area and therefore non-smoking? Would you please extinguish your cigarette?"

"Nope. Sue me." Spike replied pleasantly.

"I will." The man replied, equally as pleasantly, handing over his card. He spoilt the impression of professional superiority by adding smugly, "Bite me."

Spike gave a vicious smile.

"Yeah? Cheers for the invite."

His eyes glinted gold, fangs lengthened and the bones in his face were already beginning to shift and change when Fred came hurrying up to intervene.

"Spike? You know we're in a law firm, surrounded by lawyers? I think 'sue me' aren't the sort of words that should be bandied around." She turned to the man. "And please don't ask Spike to bite you…"

Spike reluctantly relaxed his features.

"Sodding lawyers. Give me good, honest, evil demons any day of the week."

"Sorry." She said glancing towards the seething lawyer. "Just having a bad day. Angel on the warpath, you know how he is."

"Angel?"

"I bet you didn't introduce yourself, did you?" She reprimanded Spike. "This is William the Bloody. He's kinda Angel's closest living relation." She gave a nervous smile. "Well not exactly living... And sorry, you are?"

The lawyer's expression underwent a dramatic change. He looked around anxiously and ran a finger around his collar as though it had somehow shrunk and become a noose about his neck. He glanced at Spike, licked his suddenly dry lips and peered down the corridor as though he expected to see Angel striding towards him, lethal sword in hand. He was a bright man and quickly came to a decision.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, William. Spike. I mean, Mr Bloody."

He snatched his card back out of Spike's hand and rushed off.

Spike eyed Fred with amusement.

"You just bullied that poor, little lawyer. I like your style, Pet." He approved.

Fred just looked at him. The sympathy she exuded was enough to send him frantically scrabbling in the dirt, digging defensive ditches and erecting palisades until he was impregnable once more.

"Ya know how grouchy he is in the mornings. Don't take it to heart."

She thought she'd caught a flash of hurt in his eyes and then realised it must have been a trick of the light. He turned towards her and all emotion had gone, his features were relaxed and his voice was indifferent.

"Don't worry yourself, Pet, got used to his little tantrums a long time ago."

"You just seem to bring out the worst in him."

"Yeah, but someone has to make the broody git lighten up."

"You do it deliberately?" Not that Fred admitted to being wholly surprised.

He gave a small shrug.

"Used to, a long time ago."

William's reasoning had been, if you can't have approval, you may as will have attention.

"Now it's conditioned – see me, pout, behave like a two year old. Pavlov's bloody dog has nothing on him. Still, no one should be expected to be mature and reasonable 24/7. S'not healthy"

"Huh." She nodded her understanding. "It's like he needs an outlet and you're the lightening rod?"

He didn't like that analogy and hastily corrected her erroneous impression.

"I see when he's getting wound tight, so I wind it just that little bit tighter." Spike cocked his head, his eyes wide, his face a picture of martyred innocence as he spread his hands. "Hey, it's a rotten job, but someone's got to do it."

Fred was genuinely curious.

"Still, it must get to you, don't you mind, the things he says to you?"

"Nah. I say worse back. It's nothing."

"So why'd ya walk out of the meeting?"

Spike gave another shrug.

"Sometimes you just gotta live down to expectations."

"You're a very strange person." Fred frowned. "You must care for him a lot,"

"What? That… tosser! You must be joking!"

Spike nearly choked in the rush to voice his denial. Fred wrung her hands, becoming defensive and apologetic.

"Sorry. I know I'm not very perceptive, ya know… so many years by myself. I'm not very good at 'getting' folk, an all. So I kinda look at actions rather than listen to words. You talk like you hate him, but you act in his interests even when he doesn't realise or appreciate it." She made a little self-deprecating gesture. "It just makes me think you must care."

"Bollocks. We keep each other sane by driving each other mental."

But Fred was the one person who could always breach his defences and sapper his attitude and posturing. She understood that his actions spoke way louder than the cacophony of words he produced.

"People underestimate you." She placed an affectionate hand on his arm. "I wish I'd known you as a human."

And wasn't that the last thing he needed reminding of. Feeble, pathetic William. Desperately seeking approval and yet forever the outsider, the butt of jokes and unkind jibes that had the power to reduce him to a self-conscious mass of quivering misery. What a wanker. Thank god he was no longer like that.

"He was a complete pillock."

"I imagine you were a kind, caring man."

"Like I said, complete pillock."

She took the hint and dropped the subject and they walked together towards the lab. Spike often spent time in there, watching and listening, although she wasn't entirely certain that he understood everything she said. She did tend to get a bit tecky. But he would let her rattle on regardless and somehow, through the act of talking about a particular case, it would often help clarify it in her mind. He'd almost become her professional comfort blanket. She smiled at the thought.

He was restlessly prowling, picking up items, examining what was new. He stuck his finger into a glutinous mass and watched with distaste as it dripped from the end of his finger.

"Is this what you're working on at the moment?"

"Uh huh. Our sources say they've been turning up around the downtown industrial area."

They eyed the smelly, grey, gelatinous substance with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Spike's brows drew together, he brought the coated finger to his nostrils, taking in the distinct odour of the substance.

"What is it?" Fred asked.

"Have you analysed it yet?"

"Not yet. It only arrived this morning."

"Oh. Think you might want to start cross-referencing these blobs with the missing persons register."

Fred wrinkled her nose.

"You think? What makes you say that?"

"There's a faint whiff of rotten meat. Digestive remains, Pet."

She pulled a face.

"Well that's plain nasty."

She tugged on some rubber gloves and began removing sterile instruments from their packaging.

"Maybe it's not human. S'pose it could be a cat or dog." He said doubtfully.

Then he appeared to lose interest, wiping his finger and resuming his tour of the lab. He found it fascinating. There was as much power to be found in a room like this, as in a whole book of magic, but it wasn't something that many demons had given much thought to. Luckily

She started probing through the mass, until she hit something solid. She poked a bit more and pulled out a piece of twisted metal.

"The remains of a buckle, at a guess. A dog collar?" She asked hopefully.

He glanced around.

"Nah, too big. Belt buckle. Human."

Fred sadly nodded her agreement.

"I'll ask Wesley to start researching. Guess we need to find out what sort of demon is capable of eradicating a human like that."

"You find it, luv, and me and the brooding avenger will make sure it never enjoys jell-o again."

Fred tapped away on the computer whilst Wesley peered at the screen from behind her shoulder, attempting to cross-reference the onscreen data with information from the Codex, which he held rather precariously, balancing it lightly on the back of Fred's chair.

Angel was a picture of concentration, writing up points arising form another lengthy and frankly tedious report he'd been given; Drug Culture: the Result of the Rising Demonic Population or the Cause? He hoped that they discovered something soon. He needed to kill something and he was fond of Fred and Wes. He eyed Spike speculatively. It had been too long since he'd been out on the streets, tracking, fighting and destroying evil. He glanced at Spike again. His boot had just grazed the very expensive leather couch. He was sure of it. Jeez, the boy was so fricking irritating. He bit his tongue and held out a bit longer, sensing that as soon as he'd been provoked into reacting he'd have lost. Spike would smirk and act like he'd won the ribbons in whatever warped game he was playing.

Spike was bored to tears. One glance at him and every line of his body screamed this was a bored vampire. Once again, he'd been told to stop interfering and keep out of everyone's way. What the hell did he care? Couldn't give a shit. Angel wouldn't let him grow up, so sod it, what was the point of trying point of trying? So they were back to playing games. He supposed it was one way to pass eternity.

He sprawled over the couch, one foot on the floor and one leg dangling over the arm. Sticking to the letter of the law by ensuring his boots didn't touch the leather, whilst infringing the spirit, by swinging his dangling foot within millimetres of the side of the couch. Ooops. Might accidentally have brushed it there. He was impressed that his Sire hadn't exploded yet. He swung his foot again.

Lazily leafing through a magazine that he'd found lying on someone's desk, completely unclaimed, so no way could it be classed as theft, he scanned through glossy photographs of inane stars and celebrities. He came to a halt and contemplated a double page spread. Keira Knightley was one side, her bright smile and youthful face shining from the page. The other was filled with a moody looking Depp, peering darkly into the camera. He stared at them both. Which would he choose, youth and beauty, or dark and broody? It was difficult, like trying to decide between Buffy and the... He glanced at Angel and hurriedly turned the page.

Oh. This article had potential. Find your personality type.

"If you were a type of cloth what would you be?" Spike read aloud. "Who the hell thinks up this crap? I mean, obviously I would be leather. Does leather qualify as cloth?"

Angel ignored him. To be honest, he hadn't really heard. He often switched off, allowing Spike's inconsequential babble to fade into the background. The boy was irrelevant in every way, but Angel wasn't completely heartless. He allowed Spike to stay, after all.

"Oy! Peaches. Listen, this is important. You were a cloth merchant when you were a real boy, so in your expert opinion, if I were a type of cloth what would I be?"

The downside was that for the sake of keeping the peace, he sometimes had to listen and respond to these irritating and trivial interruptions. Angel heard the strident tone and knew if he refused to answer it was just the sort of infuriating thing Spike would fixate on and run with. He considered for a moment before replying.

"Denim."

Spike considered this with a slightly pleased look.

"Hell, yeah! I get that. It's cool and never dates, unlike some vamps I could mention, and everyone wants it. Oh, and its blue like my eyes, you know, the faded blue denim, not that poncey, dark blue stuff."

Angel gave a thin smile, as he buried his nose in his report.

"Nope, denim because it's rough, common, cheap and blue…like your language."

Wesley glanced at Fred and they rolled their eyes in a 'here we go again' fashion. If they didn't know better they'd have almost thought the two enjoyed the constant bickering.

"Sod you! And hey, whaddya mean cheap?"

"Come on Spike, you're not exactly exclusive; Buffy, Harmony, Anya, Dru, Darla, Xander, Giles…"

"You what! Where the hell did Fatboy and Watcher appear from?"

"You're saying you stayed with them both and didn't manage to seduce either of them?"

"C'mon, I have my standards…"

"Harmony?"

"Nothing wrong with Harm – hot, attractive, intell…did I mention hot?"

Angel gave him a look.

"Ok. I didn't have much choice with Fatboy. He had me tied up and helpless in his basement."

Angel raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, well. He thought he had me tied up and helpless and I didn't want to spoil his game for him. What can I say? I'm irresistible. My bad. As for the Watcher, I was chained in his bath, and what is it with everyone's bondage obsessions, anyway? Course, things got a bit more fun when he stood over me to take his shower…"

"Oh God." Angel shuddered. He was getting a very vivid picture. "Shut up, Spike. And for the record? Not how I want to imagine Giles."

Spike grinned and his pink tongue darted out, running over his bottom lip.

"Yeah, how you want to imagine me though. Just jealous cus it's everyone but you."

Angel wasn't even going to go there. He tore his gaze away from Spike's flickering tongue and returned to his book.

Wesley butted in.

"Spike. Would you please stop denigrating Mr Giles in this fashion, Rupert is the soul of gentility."

"Uh…are we actually talking about the same Giles? The soul of gentility eh? A bit like you then, Percy?"

Fred broke in, subtly trying to diffuse the tension that had suddenly surfaced.

"So what kind of cloth would I be?" She asked with a bright smile.

"Cashmere." Spike answered without hesitation.

"For once I'm in perfect agreement with Spike. Cashmere. Warm, soft, precious." Wesley smiled at her with affection.

"And bloody gorgeous."

Fred blushed lightly and grinned.

"So what would I be?" Wes asked, returning her smile.

"Oh…maybe cotton." She answered and Wesley's smile became slightly forced. "Clean and crisp, dependable, practical. I don't know." She laughed in embarrassment. "It's just sorta nice."

Wes nodded and turned away. She thought of him as everyday cotton.

Spike saw his face. Like cotton, it crumpled so easily

"Crisp cotton, always makes me think of a bed I want to leap into, and when its all white and gleaming it just makes me wanna dirty it up a bit."

Fred giggled, "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's sort of delicious isn't it?"

"It is that, Luv."

Wesley's ears had gone pink with pleasure and Angel looked up and gave his childe a faint smile of approval.

"Do you want to know what you are, Mate?"

Angel continued to work. He knew he didn't have to answer, there would be no stopping Spike anyway.

"Burlap."

This clearly required comment.

"Uh huh. Burlap?"

"Yeah. Sackcloth. You know, what self-indulgent martyrs would dress themselves in whilst their hair shirts were being washed."

"Hmmm. Martyr? I guess it does suit me. Unpretentious, practical. Got that open weave, like my open personality." Angel agreed.

Spike didn't even try to hide his snort of derision.

"Your open personality! Stop. You're killing me here, Peaches. Nah. It's heavy, thick and irritating as hell. Clothing of peasants. Reminds me of dirt, stinking salt-marshes and peat bogs the colour of your eyes."

"Very poetic, Spike, thanks for that…Buffy used to say I had eyes like liquid chocolate."

"Lucky the Whelp didn't notice, he'd have sucked them out of your skull."

But he went quiet and withdrawn. She'd never said anything sweet to him.

Angel managed a full body shudder at the image of Xander's lips sealed over his eye-socket. Then noticed the sudden depression that had descended over Spike. He was tempted to ignore it. A depressed Spike was a miraculously quiet Spike. Before he could decide, Fred called out.

"I've found it."

Wesley read over her shoulder.

"A Chanokar demon. Looks human. Paralyses its victims and then the human facade splits open, revealing its digestive organ. It attaches to its captive and dissolves the body directly into its system."

"That explains the condition of the corpses." Spike commented. "If you can call a lump of jelly a corpse."

Now that Wesley had a name for the demon, he was able to quickly find details in the Codex.

"It hails from colder climes and prefers temperatures in the minus range."

"Are there any cold storage warehouses around there?"

Fred brought up a list of businesses within a mile of the recent murders.

"No. Wait. Meat storage – is that cold enough?"

"It could be."

"But why would it hunt if it's surrounded by food?"

"The warmth of the victims helps to maintain its own temperature in a cold environment." Wesley explained. "That's why it feeds directly from living people."

"There are some questions you just wished you'd never asked." Fred sighed.

"Ok. Is there an antidote to the paralysing agent?"

"I believe the paralysis itself is temporary, which is why the bodies are found in the streets - the Chanokar must feed where it attacks. The obvious conclusion is that the paralysis lasts only minutes."

Angel nodded.

"How do we kill it?"

"In its human guise it is impervious to metal or wood, but becomes vulnerable when it opens for feeding, then any attack to its body will kill it. Given it's preference for the cold, I suspect that heat would make it extremely uncomfortable."

"We're looking to kill it, Percy, not add to its discomfort."

"Yes, thank you for your input, Spike. Most valuable as usual."

"We'll take this. Spike?"

Spike shrugged, picked up his axe and turned to follow.

"Not cus I wanna help. Just bored and got nothing better to do."

"Noted." Angel agreed. "So you know what to do."

Spike gave a nod. Yeah, he knew the routine.

Alerted by an abruptly curtailed scream, they raced towards the noise. There in a side street they discovered the creature crouching over the body of a young man. The stench of fear was overpowering. They caught a glimpse of its demonic form before it straightened up, returning to its human guise.

"Not pretty." Angel said.

"Not planning on shagging it."

They both circled it, intent on shifting it away from its victim, who was staring out from wide terrified eyes. Spike made the first move, using a spinning kick to knock it aside. Angel followed through, bringing his sword into play, a broad stroke at the things neck whilst it was still reeling. To their amazement, the sword did not pierce the skin but glided smoothly over it.

They retreated slightly.

"So Wesley was right. Can't be pierced by metal." Angel said quietly.

"Some sort of magical protection shield."

"We need it to expose its true body."

"Need to make yourself look like food then."

"Why me? Good idea though. Ok, we have to pretend to lose the fight, let it paralyse one of us and the other will kill it."

"Right, that's the plan."

Spike dropped his axe and they moved in again, allowing the thing to strike them with a series of heavy blows. Spike was the first to fall, as one particular wild thrusting punch connected with his face and hurtled him backwards into a wall, hitting it with a resounding thump. He fell heavily and stayed down.

Opening an eye, he surreptitiously watched Angel attempting to deflect suspicion from their tactics by attacking hard whilst testing the demon's defences, hoping to find a genuine opening. Spike quietly cursed him, why couldn't he ever stick to the bloody plan?

He noticed the man to his left seemed to be recovering somewhat. He'd been mistaken, nothing more than a kid really.

"Can you move yet?"

One arm lifted slightly and a nod of the head confirmed that Wesley's theory concerning the temporary nature of the paralysis was also correct.

"It's alright, we have a plan. Just lay still and act terrified."

The kid gave a grimace and Spike gave him an encouraging grin.

"That's the look. You must be doing acting classes."

Angel was fighting well. His speed and strength were telling at first, but again and again the thing just kept getting to its feet, with no injuries to show for the violent exchanges. The Chanokar's invulnerability was beginning to dominate the fight. It finally managed to grapple the sword away from Angel by grasping the blade and pushing back, ramming Angel's knuckles painfully into a metal dumpster and weakening his grip. One twist and the weapon changed hands.

It was enough. With a clumsy stab the vampire was pierced through the chest. Angel staggered, as though mortally wounded. Suddenly, a crack appeared in its shell and an appendage darted from the creature, striking the side of Angel's face. He immediately froze and dropped hard onto the unforgiving sidewalk.

Spike tensed, he had to get the timing perfect. Mustn't move before it had opened to feed, mustn't wait too long and allow Angel to get injured…much.

He heard a grunt and saw that the kid had managed to manoeuvre himself into a standing position. He ignored this development and turned back to watch over Angel.

"Shit plan. That guy gets eaten and then it comes for us." The kid whined, eyes wild with fear. "I've got a better one. Feed you to that monster and I run."

Spike was concentrating on his sire, and noticed too late the gun in the boy's hand, the depressed trigger and brief flares, which appeared microseconds before two sharp detonations.

A cry of pain and the crack of treacherous shots reverberating hollowly in the night, chasing down the empty street, ricocheting off industrial buildings in never ending ripples of sound. Uneven footsteps sliced through the rebounding wall of sound, as the kid unsteadily lurched and fell into darkness.

Spike felt a blast of black, burning pain in his legs that hit him like sickness. Bone had shattered and splintered, blood spewed out around him. The demon whipped around, saw Spike's broken kneecaps, gave a malevolent leer and turned back to his paralysed prey.

"Oh hell! Angel, I can't move. Oh Goddammit! I'm sorry. You hear me? I can't help you! The kid shot my sodding legs away."

He was almost howling in desperation. He threw himself forward and cried aloud as the movement caused searing agony to burn through him. He began to retch and vomit. A wave of blackness was breaking over him. He fought it with all he had. He heard a tearing sound and knew the dreadful noise was the splitting of the human shell and the demon emerging. It was going to feed.

"Nooo! Christ, Angel! I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

He dragged himself forward, nails clawing madly into concrete; attempting to obtain some purchase, to gain another few inches. A trail of viscous blood marked his progress. He was almost within reach, but too weak. What could he do? Bat at it aggressively? He wouldn't even make the thing uncomfortable. Discomfort… that struck a chord in his head.

He reached into his coat pocket. There it was, he gripped it tightly and brought his hand up just within touch of the Chanokar. He clicked feebly. Not enough strength. He did it again, this time more firmly. The flame leapt up from his reliable, old lighter and caught the cotton shirt that clothed the demon. There was a brief flare, followed by a wet sort of explosion, like the bursting of a water balloon and the thing disappeared as Spike was showered in a deluge of demon blood and guts. He caught Angel's eye, before giving into the call of welcoming darkness.

For what felt like an eternity, Angel could only watch with black frustration as the lifeblood seeped from his childe. He could feel a rage churning through him. Spike, drenched in pain, forced to slither over this filthy sidewalk, frantically trying to save him. The urge to track and rip the traitorous human to shreds was almost unbearable.

As movement returned, he reached for his cell phone and with fingers that were shaky with anger, he clumsily punched the keypad. Wesley received the call. They needed blood. Lots of blood.

Angel stretched towards a wooden pallet that was leaning against the dumpster, dragged it towards him and pulled off a couple of slats of wood. He struggled out of his coat, removed his shirt and tore it into serviceable strips. With his recovering strength he heaved himself towards Spike and bound hideously injured legs securely to the wood, hoping to prevent any further damage when moving the unconscious vampire into the car. He caught a glimpse of the lighter, lying under a pile of noxious goo. It had been tarnished by the substance and he gave it a quick clean before pocketing it.

Spike was silent and still, but there was no pleasure in the peace it offered. He should have been striding along, talkative and irritating, axe swinging loosely by his side. Angel picked him up, settled him awkwardly against his chest and returned to the car. As he drove carefully through the dark LA streets, one hand rested lightly on Spike, whether it was to give reassurance or receive it, he couldn't say.

Wesley was waiting for them. His face creased with distress when he saw the injuries and he rushed forward to help carry the unconscious vampire.

"The monster did this?"

"Guess you could call him a monster. It was the human we rescued."

"Good god! Why?"

"He was afraid the thing was coming back for him. He wanted to live, so to give himself more of a chance he made Spike into easy prey."

"You managed to rescue him, though. Well done, Angel."

"I couldn't move. It had already paralysed me. He dragged himself across the ground and set the thing on fire."

Wesley's eyes were alight with sympathy.

"God, he must have been in agony."

"Jeez, Wesley. He just kept telling me he was sorry, he was so frigging sorry."

"No one could ever say he lacked courage."

"No. Many things, but never that."

"He'll heal."

"Yeah, he will."

The elevator doors opened.

"Help me put him on the bed."

Wesley nodded.

"Where's Fred?"

"She's gone for extra blood."

"Good."

"Is there anything else I can do?"

Spike needed cleaning but he wouldn't humiliate the injured vampire by letting the humans see him in this state. He shook his head.

"Just bring up the blood when Fred comes back."

Wesley quietly left and Angel drew a bath hot enough for steam to curl and rise, white feathery tendrils caressed his skin and left beads of moisture hanging like tears upon his face. He removed Spike's coat and shirt. The jeans would need cutting. He worked steadily until every scrap of material and the rough splinting were removed. The shattered white bone of one leg was visibly showing through the skin and Angel was anxious that the kneecap might have been destroyed. He'd noticed in the past that vampire healing was better at repairing than re-growth. Luckily, the human had been a lousy shot, missed the kneecap and hit the lower femur. The other leg had possibly fared even better. The bullet had chipped the patella and damaged the joint. Although it would be painful and Spike would be unable to walk for a while, it should heal quickly enough.

He lowered Spike into the bath and carefully cleaned him. He could hardly credit that it had been over a hundred years since they had last shared this sort of intimacy, although this probably didn't count as sharing, considering Spike was still out cold and delicately veined eyelids shuttered the blue of his eyes. His hands moved gently over his childe and the tightly coiled rage receded, as if he needed the reassurance of physical contact to prove that Spike was still with him. Why it should weigh on him like this he couldn't say and he refused to examine too closely the exquisite pleasure he found in the simple act of trailing fingers over fine, porcelain skin or gently massaging shampoo into blonde hair that fell into cherubim curls.

Physically, he found Spike remarkably changed. There was a leanness and sinewy strength that he couldn't remember seeing before. His hands skimmed lightly over wiry muscularity, surprised at the bulging hardness he discovered. Wondering when William had become so strong, his hand lingered on a bicep and unconsciously, his thumb gently stroked down the swollen flesh. He realised what he was doing and guiltily snatched his hand away. His reaction was nothing, just a fascination at the differences he'd found - so much for the myth that vampires were unchanging. Returning to the mutilated areas, he quickly and clinically ensured there were no remaining shreds of cloth to contaminate the wound. He eased Spike out of the brackish, cooling water, into the comfort of a warmed towel.

Wesley must have returned. There was a cool box filled with packets of blood left next to the bed. Human blood.

He splinted the legs securely and then gently examined the other injuries: burns from the corrosive insides of the demon, some cuts and grazes. He peered closely at Spike's face and reached for the tweezers, carefully drawing out a splinter of bone from below his eye, shrapnel from when his femur shattered in the blast. Fingernails were torn, some had turned black and some had been ripped out entirely, and that injury more than any other unsettled him most of all. The sound of the gunshots, the scream of pain and the shuffling sound as Spike desperately attempted to reach him. Then the despairing cries and pitiful apologies. Angel looked at him as though he'd never seen him before, and tenderly bandaged his hands.

Snugly wrapping the covers around him, Angel was struck by a thought that held all the clarity and resonance of revelation; somehow, this irritating vampire wasn't as irrelevant as he had once been. There was no-one else he'd rather have his back in a fight. Somewhere along the line he'd become dependent on the other vampire's strength and tenacity. Spike might complain (vociferously) and protest undying hatred (continuously), but when the chips were down he could be depended upon in a fight. It was puzzling, but he couldn't pinpoint when this reliance had begun and why he'd never noticed it before.

Angel finally looked to his own injuries. Showering clean and binding the stab wound, which was already beginning to heal. There was some burning from where the demon had begun to feed, but fortunately it hadn't relished his cold flesh. Exhaustion and the lingering effects of the paralysis were beginning to overwhelm him and he sank back into the seductive softness of his bed. Lying outside of the covers he looked at Spike's injured face and admitted to the stirring of something akin to affection. Was it really over a hundred years since they'd laid like this? He thought about it and did a quick calculation in his head.

One hundred and twenty-five years. To the day. He looked at Spike and remembered how he'd stood this morning with a welcoming smile on his lips. He remembered the meeting, where he'd wanted to talk about some ideas he'd had. He remembered his own self-satisfaction as he'd prodded and aggravated until Spike lost it and crashed out of the meeting. He remembered Spike struggling against excruciating pain to save him.

Something was clenching desperately inside Angel's gut. His viewpoint skewed and suddenly tilted a few degrees.

He reached out towards Spike and drifted into sleep, a protective arm wrapped around the injured vampire.


	2. Part 2

Warning: Strong language

Feedback: Yes please. I'd really like to know what you think...

A/N: I struggled a littlebringing this together, so thanks to Stars for her advice, beta work and fantastic encouragement. Also, my apologies for chapter length it wouldn't stop growing!Your wonderfulfeedback for the previous chapter was really appreciated and helped me toeventually finish this part!

Summary: Spike's action causes Angel to re-evaluate their relationship

* * *

**The Relevance of Spike**

**Part 2**

The dream was so vivid that scents and sounds followed him into his wakening and when he opened his eyes and spotted the tousled blonde head and felt the hard lines of the linen-shrouded body beneath the palm of his hand, for a moment he imagined that he was still in the midst of his dream… until anomalies began to bombard the periphery of his brain.

Didn't William have tousled brown hair? Surely light shouldn't be streaking through the shutters in such a way? Darla was particular about such things. He blinked in bemusement.

A soreness in his chest and itchy, uncomfortable bandaging, led him painfully back to the present. But his bemusement only intensified. He blinked and slowly opened his eyes. Definitely awake. And still in bed with Spike...

That shocked his brain to a standstill.

He was lying on the bed beside Spike, one arm slung around his childe... His body thrummed with tension and his sleep-befuddled brain was finding it difficult to process thought. His fingers twitched slightly as if confirming the solid reality.

Somewhere his rational mind was telling him to rise, remove himself from an awkward situation before blue eyes opened and rained cold derision down upon him. But the dream had caused old emotions to stir from the depth of their slumber and enfold him in a comfortable blanket of lethargy.

Instead of rising, he lay like a big cat, stretched bonelessly to the morning rays of the African sun. He closed his eyes, luxuriating in the illicit pleasure of another body pressed up against his own, a small self-indulgence in a life that held so few intimacies. He revelled in the warm feeling of awakening to the touch of a familiar body, and half wished that those mocking eyes would remain veiled and that disdainful, articulate tongue would stay dumb for just a while longer.

His mind wandered lazily back over his dream, vicariously enjoying it again, tumbling images of Darla and Dru with the hot, sticky scent of passion that clothed them like a second skin, hearing pleading lips and breathy moans and watching in fascination as bodies arched hungrily to his touch. And Spike in the background, as he always had been. Never directly touched by Angelus, but always there, in his eye-line or impinging on his senses, his presence as much a part of the scene as soft curves and delicate feminine hands.

Except sometimes they had touched, hadn't they?

Usually Angelus would awake nuzzled into Darla, and William would be wrapped around Dru, but more rarely he and William would blink open sleepy eyes and he would find himself floating in clear, blue pools, whilst William was caught in the depths of rich, peat earth… momentarily trapped by something in the other's gaze, physically held by heavy limbs, woven together in sleep.

Angel shifted uncomfortably and unconsciously nudged against Spike. The touch sparked a leap of pleasure, a frisson of excitement that danced its way though his body like a shimmering electrical current flowing through his veins, heating his cold flesh and lighting up his senses, fine hairs on his body standing erect in shivering anticipation.

He couldn't help himself, it had been too long. Another small thrust. A groan escaped his mouth, parting his lips so that he could taste the scent of his own desire playing upon his tongue. Aberrant thoughts streaked through his head... He could allow the sheets to slide back exposing an expanse of translucent, white skin… he  
could tease his fingers over the snaking spine, tracing each spur from the short hairs at the nape of his smooth neck, down to the small bones at the base... He could…

But no, he couldn't! Jeez this was Spike, not just some unresisting body conveniently placed at his disposal. Spike, who was still unconscious from injuries he'd received saving Angel's life. He mentally stumbled at the thought. Spike had saved him. His childe deserved more consideration than this casual, carnal misuse by Angel's starved, needy body.

He could still remember William's horrified response when awaking to a tangle of legs and arms and the press of enticingly hard bodies. The fearful fledgling had almost fallen over himself to scramble  
away. A reaction that used to infuriate Angelus, his baleful eyes following the fleeing figure. Thinking back on those memories he had the grace to smile at the arrogance of the demon and his assumption that all who met him would desire him. Angelus had been so certain of William, but somehow the spark of their first meeting had been doused by the chilly realism of the fear and the fury in each of these awakenings.

The truth was that Spike would never consciously consent to this attention and guilt reached out with grasping claws, holding him tight and slicing into his conscience. Pleasure drained and wilted and all that was left was a lingering sense of shame. The flash of desire had been purely about his own need, and he was mortified by his spiralling lack of control that had allowed his thoughts to have wandered so far astray. His need was weakening him. Maybe it was time he called Nina. It wouldn't be perfect, but then again, he didn't do perfect anymore.

Still he lay there. A small sigh escaped him. He should move. This was Spike, and they hated each other…. No that was yesterday's thoughts. He wasn't quite sure what he felt. Spike's distressed cries still rang loudly in his ears, and his own rage at the human who had hurt his childe, threatened to undermine his precarious inner balance. Maybe there was something here to be salvaged. Maybe Spike thought so too. It seemed he'd been making an effort. Angel sighed again. Could be too late, he'd done a good job of pushing the boy away.

Spike appeared to be stirring and Angel hastily rolled away into the protective isolation of the cold, empty space on his own side of the bed. A whimper of pain caused him to flinch in sympathy. He slowly reached out and put a comforting hand on Spike's naked shoulder. The other vampire stiffened to the touch. Angel could sense his confusion, and almost smiled, delighted to find that he wasn't the only one completely baffled by this situation.

oooo

He awoke to a world of agony, the throb of deep injuries and the sting of abrasions and lacerations. He opened his eyes and squinted in the brightness. Even in his muzzy, pain-filled state he could recognise that there was something seriously off here. Lethal sunlight was cutting through the air and lighting up the far wall. A wall he thought he kind of recognised. He sniffed at the air, his senses became saturated with the presence of his Sire, and when a cool hand touched his shoulder, it shocked him into rigidity. His head whisked around, eyes anime-wide.

"What the fuck…?"

"Yeah. Uh." So much for a comforting hand, the years dropped away and there was William, ready to bolt again. "You weren't doing too well last night, that's why you're…"

He gestured around his room.

"Oh."

Yeah. Spike remembered last night. He remembered the agony that had blasted through him, when he thought he'd lost… His mind veered sharply from the thought and he closed his eyes as something twisted and coiled in his gut. One hundred and twenty-five years of circling around his Sire had almost ended.

He might hate the frigging Poof but he was his Poof.

Brown eyes registered concern as shivers of distress ran through the slim body. He almost reached out again and then halted not altogether sure if his touches were welcome or not.

"Ok?"

Spike nodded and gradually memories of the rest of the night's activities flooded back. Anger and hurt ripped through him like bullets.

"The git shot me, left me for demon food."

"I know."

Spike swallowed and took a calming breath.

"Thought you were a goner, mate. You 'k?"

"Yeah. It exploded into pieces just as it was about to feed on  
me."

Again, a moment to quell something inside that made him feel weak and sick in the stomach. Probably just some bad blood. He searched for attitude and words that would disguise his debility.

"Percy was right. Heat did make the bugger uncomfortable."

Angel gave a rueful smile.

"Wesley is the master of the understatement."

Spike nodded.

"Yeah. That's us English for you. Reticent to the point of retarded."

"I wouldn't call you reticent."

"Just retarded?"

A cocked eyebrow and a hint of an answering smile as they both attempted to find some solid ground in this shifting swamp of emotion they'd found themselves mired in.

Obviously Angel was there, his voice, his scent, his overpowering presence, infected his senses, but Spike was a visual person. He needed Angel in his line of vision. Determinedly he levered himself up, meaning to flip on to his side facing Angel, but his legs began screaming at him in protest and refused to quieten down until he flopped back to his pillows in defeated exhaustion.

"Crap."

"Feeling weak? Not exactly surprising, you took a couple of bad hits. I've got blood, give me a sec."

Angel leapt up and slipped into his sweats. Spike's eyes followed the movement. This was sort of worrying. Angel's face had appeared sympathetic and now there was blood and pleasantness. Spike waited patiently for the other shoe to drop and provide the punch-line to this little scene.

A minute rang out on the microwave and then he was back, hesitantly reaching out to hand over a blood bag. This felt seriously weird to both of them. They'd never thought about what might be left once the shouting and fighting ended. It seemed almost…domesticated. He and Spike had never been domesticated. It was unnerving.

Spike silently took the blood, changing faces and tearing into the bag, gulping half of it down before appreciating what he had.

"Human?"

"Yeah, it was Fred."

His brow creased, he still wasn't with the plot.

"Fred opened a vein for us?"

"No," Angel replied patiently, "I asked for blood, she came back with this."

"Huh. Maybe she caught up with the wanker and opened his  
vein."

"Don't blame him, Spike."

Incredulity distorted the features even of his gameface. Was a bit of righteous indignation from his own sire too much to ask for? Oh well, bollocks to it. Good to know that he was still as irrelevant as ever. He threw the blood bag to one side and reached back for his humanity.

"Don't blame him? Buggering hell, Peaches, it was his fault! You know me, yeah? All for seeing the good in people and giving second chances, but the little shit was walking the streets, packing a gun. I was trying to help and he shot me! You could have hurt him a little bit."

"I was paralysed and then I had to see to you…" Angel stopped. That wasn't what he meant to say and he hastily  
corrected himself. "There are some lines we can't cross. We don't kill humans."

He lowered his eyes so that Spike wouldn't see his hypocrisy. Even now, he could feel last night's chilling rage creep over him again.

"But if I was going on a killing spree, he'd be the one I'd start with."

The admission was cold and emotionless. It pacified Spike a little, but a lingering sense of injury remained and mixed smoothly with his physical pain and mental confusion to produce a bubbling cocktail of self-pity.

"They have bleedin' souls, don't they? Why are they like  
that?"

God, he despised that whiny edge to his voice, but couldn't prevent it slipping out.

"I don't know." Angel gave his question some serious consideration. "I guess some people are arrogant. They think the world is made for them and don't realise that they're dust before we've even turned around once. Others simply don't know how to live in a world as bleak as this."

"Tell me, who the fuck does? Gotta ignore it all, else yer just go bad. Or go mad. And hey, I've tried both."

Spike lay back on the pillows and lowered his eyelids to prevent Angel from reading his eyes.

"Or you try to fix it."

"Knowing you never can? Jesus. I don't know if I can do it anymore."

Angel examined the shuttered face and reflected how little he really knew of this man. He'd known the demon, but this mixture of resignation and despondency was something different from the boisterous fighter who would never stay down. For Spike to reveal such vulnerability was fascinating to Angel. It made him feel protective and powerful. For the first time in a long time he began to feel strong.

"It's not all dark."

Spike looked pointedly down to where his splinted legs lay hidden by the covers before replying.

"Yeah, right. So where is the light? Where is the goodness? Cus you know, I have bloody good eyesight and I'm just not seeing it."

"In my experience it turns up in unexpected places." He avoided looking at Spike. "Or you go out and shed your own light."

Spike shook his head and reached for a cigarette, the only light he wanted at the moment was the reliable flame of his lighter.

"I've shed light and shall I tell you the funny thing about the light, Mate? It's not a romantic drift into ashes. It makes your eyeballs boil and explode in their sockets, and skin blister and bubble, before melting away in excruciating, screaming agony. See, I burnt up in the light and I don't want to do it again. I'm  
tired and I'm not that strong, I'm not like you."

The admission seemed to shock them both. Where the hell were his fags and lighter? His coat was lying on a chair by the side of the bed. His mangled fingers fumbled painfully towards it. This display of vulnerability nauseated Spike and to reveal it to Angel of all people… but the self-pity was welling up inside and somehow he couldn't contain it, couldn't prevent it gushing out in a self-indulgent torrent of pain and angst.

"You think I'm strong?" Angel asked.

"Yeah. You're…I dunno…self contained, I suppose. But I…well…I need people."

He took a deep breath and that more than his words made Angel realise how truly injured the other vampire was.

Spike had worked hard all his unlife to bury William, but humanity proved tenacious, taking advantage of his incapacity, to claw its way back out of the grave, through the covering dank earth and emerge blinking in the light of the bright blue-sky eyes.

"Yeah, I need people. But what's the sodding point? They  
can't give me what I need; we touch briefly and rebound off each  
other. We make love together but orgasm alone and it's not  
enough. Never enough."

It hurt to see Spike like this. A reflection of himself, spouting all  
his fears, airing them, making them real. He dealt with them as  
harshly as he dealt with his own.

"Sheesh. How old are you? So you're alone? Like every other damned thing. We walk side by side for a while but always alone. You call me strong?" Angel shook his head. "I'm as disconnected as you find. Fuck, can't you see? I'm turning to stone here. I'm a massive gargoyle sitting on the corner of the church roof."

"Huh. I get that. The teeth, those ugly gargoyle features. Yeah, I see it all." Spike mocked, but there was no edge, it was just something to say, his tongue running on its habitual path.

"I'm a gargoyle, something ugly and evil and I'll always be standing somewhere just outside grace. I'm turning to stone here. I'm not even looking for connection anymore. I just go out and save people, hardly knowing if what I do is right or wrong or indifferent."

Angel turned his head. All his subterranean doubts and fears that poisoned him each day were seeping into the harsh light of day. He reflected that maybe this was why they hid behind harsh words and violence. Because what lay beneath was too disturbing to be brought to the surface. He armoured himself against the sneer he was sure would be forming on mocking lips.

Spike stopped his fumbling for fags that he wouldn't be able to hold or allowed to smoke even if he could find the bloody things. He looked at Angel's downcast face and sighed, reaching out, before remembering that his fingers were swathed in bandages, instead he rested the exposed skin on the back of his hand gently against his sire's forearm.

"See? Connection. And not stone but flesh. Yeah, cold and hard…right, ok a little stone-like."

Angel moved away from the critical touch. Yet he was oddly moved by it. The words and the touch lanced the wound and began to bleed the toxic substance from his soul. He guiltily contrasted it with his own reaction when dealing with Spike's fears. Spike watched the changing expressions passing like shadows over the broad face, and shook his head in mock sorrow.

"You're a sad wanker."

Angel said nothing but privately agreed.

"So we don the capes and tights and damn the consequences. We save evil toerags like that kid because we don't know what else to do or how else to fight."

And they looked at each other as though this is what it came down to. The only thing left that meant anything to either of them.

Except Spike had plans sitting in his briefcase. He felt too weary and disheartened to mention them again, not wanting to dispel the easy intimacy they were discovering with intrusive memories of yesterday.

And Angel had the remnants of a vision in his head, guiding him towards a destruction he couldn't yet visualise.

Angel mustered a half smile. He handed over another blood bag.

"Yeah, that's what we do. So come on, Boy Wonder, drink up."

This remark roused Spike to a semblance of sputtering normality.

"You must be joking! No way are you Batman. Well yeah the physique and ok, the saving people and obviously the whole broodboy thing yer both got going on… Anyway, I'm definitely nobody's sidekick. Besides, that boy is a complete fuck up…what? What?"

Angel resisted a smirk but Spike seemed to see it anyway.

"Oh, sod off."

He closed his eyes, sensing that they needed the banter, but they both knew it would be a while before he could pull on the tights again, figuratively speaking. Still he wasn't going to let that fucking human make a victim of him. After all, he'd survived Angelus, the Slayer and the sodding Initiative.

Besides which, he was the Big Bad. He didn't know how to stay down. So he gave in to the comfort of the familiar, returning to a favourite game, and surely the favourite of every downtrodden, oppressed childe. He personally called it winding up the ponce' and his gaze turned to one of sudden suspicion, as he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"So, how come I'm naked and you're in bed with me?"

"You were delirious, flung yourself onto me and begged me not to leave."

Oh, this wasn't the way the game went. He looked at Angel's disapproving face and felt a quiver of uncertainty.

"I bloody well did not…did I?"

"Yeah. Then you started slowly taking off your clothes. Jeez, you were so embarrassing."

Spike looked sufficiently doubtful that Angel had to frown to prevent a laugh spilling from his lips.

"So I stood there and performed a striptease?"

"Well obviously not standing… not with those legs. You were sitting down."

"With blood oozing from my wounds on to your pristine bedspread? Yeah, like you'd ever allow that to happen! Then my fingers flicked nimbly over my buttons?"

He waved his bandaged hands in Angel's face and suddenly his eyes crinkled with genuine amusement.

"You're a git!"

An uncharacteristic grin lightened Angel's face to something resembling boyish. Spike watched it emerge and carefully stored it away with his other treasures.

"Had you going though."

"Not for a second. Not for a millisecond."

"Whatever you say, Spike."

It felt good to fall into their old bickering patterns. It was hot coffee, old clothes and slippers on Sunday afternoon. Except something was missing. Angel thought about it and realised it was as if the coffee had lost its bitterness, becoming richer, stronger with almost a hint of sweetness.

"So how long am I gonna be like this?"

"Obnoxious and irritating? Can't see any immediate changes in sight."

Spike raised his eyebrows.

"Legs, Angel. And who's being obnoxious and irritating now? Someone in this room, and sure as God made little, maggot-ridden apples, it ain't me."

Angel fiddled uneasily with the bed cover.

"Might be a while. Five days, a week? You won't be able to move for a few days."

He cast Spike an oblique look from under his lashes and said as casually as possible,

"Probably best if you stayed here."

"Here?"

"Look. I know we're not exactly best buddies but I appreciate what you did for me, ok? You'll need looking after. I owe you. So stay."

"How long for?"

"Until you're well."

"Christ, I'm bored already."

"I'll get you some books."

Spike's face said it all.

"Not books… then what?"

"TV, DVD player, gamecube, ummm…magazines…uh…"

His gaze turned up towards the ceiling, white teeth worrying at his lower lip as his mind whizzed over everything he'd ever wanted and never got around to stealing. He turned back to Angel and wondered how far he could push this…

"Oh and one of those Ipod thingies, the one that holds photos and a laptop and…"

Angel stared in astonishment at his enthusiasm and wondered who he wanted to keep photographs of. Hell, if money was all it took to make Spike look at him like this he'd probably have done this years ago… or maybe not. He admitted a lot had changed in twenty-four hours. And he wasn't talking about Spike's legs.

"I know I owe you. No need to think of everything at once. Whatever you want Spike."

"Keira Knightley?"

"Too young for you. Would have thought Pamela Anderson would be more your type. Hot, attractive, intell…hot."

"If I wanted a blow-up doll I'd go down to Harry's. Too young? S'pose I'd better choose Depp then."

His eyes were drooping and his voice little more than a mumble. His wrangling was beginning to lose its coherence and Angel could have kicked himself. He went to the bathroom and came out with a bottle of pills.

"Take these. They're what I use." He handed over a couple of tablets, which Spike swallowed without demur, quickly returning to blissful slumber.

Angel was feeling pretty good. He had exposed the festering sores that had been oozing their darkness into his psyche for so long. They had been brought into the light and scoured clean by abrasive words and a gentle touch. Although, still raw, some of the poison that leeched into his system was draining away. He felt… cleansed.

He removed his bandage and was pleased to find that physically too, he had almost healed. He headed for the shower and for the first time since joining Wolfram & Hart he felt clean inside and out. He felt invigorated.

This mood lasted until he entered the elevator, where his shoulders sagged at the thought of facing another Wolfram & Hart day. By the time he exited a heavy frown had settled on his face. Sitting in his office he stared out into the main lobby. Oh shit. Gunn was being molested by some demon. Just another day at the edifice of evil.

He raced out, his sword quivering against what might possibly pass as the demon's neck when he heard Gunn's shout of alarm.

"Don't kill him! He's a client, Angel!"

The blade had just nicked the demon and Angel watched in disbelief as it fell writhing to the floor.

"I hardly touched him…" Angel told the ring of accusatory faces.

"I don't think he's hurt…" Gunn replied, giving Angel a slightly amused look.

Wesley sauntered over.

"How interesting…"

"Interesting?"

Wesley and Gunn exchanged looks. Gunn gave a croaky cough that did nothing to disguise his "You tell him." words.

Angel's frown deepened.

"Tell me what?"

"Well it's a peculiarity of the Tsrt demon. They're a little like the preying mantis in that the male is killed during mating. So the poor creatures' orgasm is stimulated by imminent death, as you can imagine they only normally have one in a lifetime…"

Angel looked with mounting horror at the creature still convulsing on the floor.

"He's… I…?"

Wesley nodded.

"We're either going to have clients queuing out the door for  
your services or he's going to sue us for interfering with their  
sacred mating ritual."

"I didn't interfere with him!" Angel denied quickly.

Gunn tried to control his own smirk as Angel's gaze swept to him, but as he glanced at the panting demon he couldn't help remarking...

"Well, if Angel gave me a happy like that I wouldn't sue." His amusement dropped as he reassessed his words and turned an anxious gaze to Angel's bewildered face. "Uh… not that I want a happy like that from you, just a figure of speech. You got that, right?"

Angel looked around, absolutely certain that everyone was laughing like hyenas behind their masks of sobriety. No one there doubted that Angel was a predator. The glare of his anger caught them and they were held frozen by the killer lurking in his eyes. No laughter, no response, not a twitch. So there was nobody he could turn on or growl his wrath at. He found himself looking automatically for the leather-clad shadow, smirking at him from a corner. He had angry words piled up in his throat waiting to tumble forth. But there was no one there and instead he had to swallow them down, an added pressure on the explosive rage building inside.

He straightened up.

"If anyone needs me I'll be in my office."

After that little incident the day went rapidly down hill. His head was throbbing and it did no good to tell himself that vampires did not get headaches; it didn't believe him and refused to budge. By the afternoon even his friends were avoiding him.

It was with an enormous sense of relief that he entered the elevator at the end of the day. Away from his office, away from the people. Angel discovered that he was actually looking forward to returning to his penthouse. A presence in the apartment, even one as irritating as Spike, turned it into something other than a place to lay his head. Some of the tension left his shoulders and his headache began to lift.

Spike was sleeping. Angel clattered around. Still he slept. He slammed the bathroom door, but not even a flicker. He went to heat some blood and accidentally sent a cup smashing to the ground.

"Hey? Sorry, did I wake you?"

Spike blinked groggily. Before his eyes were fully opened a heated blood bag was thrust into his hands. Another blink and a catlike yawn.

"Cheers, Pet."

Angel gave a nod and then immediately began to tell Spike about his day…

By the time he'd torn into Spike for spluttering blood all over the bedding, raged at him for his uncontrolled mirth, explained how none of it was his fault, ranted about untimely remarks and unsupportive behaviour from Gunn and Wesley, Spike's cheeks were wet with laughter and Angel was beginning to feel more like his normal self.

"Percy's right. They'll be queuing around the block for the Wolfram & Hart personal' touch. You can make a new voiceover commercial… This is the Poof at Wolfram & Hart. Are you dying for your first orgasm? No need. Here at Wolfram & Hart wurhg, gur ugh…'"

Angel clamped his hand tightly over Spike's laughing mouth.

"No more, ok? Not one word more."

He refused to relent until Spike nodded his agreement. Then flopped down on the bed next to his childe, darting surreptitious glances in his direction.

"Sorry."

"S'alright… uh, sorry for what?"

"You know. Coming up here and kinda piling it all on to you."

Spike gave him an inscrutable look, making Angel a little uncomfortable.

"How are you doing today?"

"Still painful, s'pose."

If he admitted to pain it must be agony.

"You've been taking the painkillers?"

"You didn't leave me any."

"But I left them right…"

But he remembered now, he hadn't. They were still in the bathroom.

"Fricking hell, Spike! What's the matter with you? Why didn't you call me?"

He hurried to the medicine cabinet and brought out the bottle. His brows were drawn together in a dark angry line, he could have kicked himself. Spike caught his arm.

"Hey. It's ok. I've been asleep all day. It's only since I've been awake…"

"Since, I got in and started whinging about my day." Angel was still annoyed with himself and handed over a couple of tablets.

"Yeah and bloody entertaining it was too!" Spike began to chuckle again as he knocked back the painkillers.

Angel gave a small answering smile.

"What's so funny now?"

"After what you did to that demon, he'll probably think you're mated for life."

"Oh Jesus!" Angel closed his eyes.

"What's the matter, Pet? Were you wearing your beer goggles? Ain't he quite so attractive in the cold light of day?"

Angel shuddered.

"Have you ever known an attractive demon?"

Spike gazed at Angel.

"One or two, Luv. One or two."

Once again the tablets knocked Spike out and this time Angel padded quietly around the apartment, enjoying the anticipation of climbing into bed and knowing that there was another body lying next to him. Then to fall asleep and find that somehow, during the night, the space between them had disappeared and finally awaking to find he was nuzzled into soft hair… that was the best feeling of all. It was soothing and comfortable and made him feel sorry for all the people who didn't wake up to it.

oooo

Spike awoke and studied Angel as he slept. He remembered the old days when Angelus used to fall asleep under William's ever watchful eye, remembered staring, always waiting for velvet eyes to open and a certain look to appear, some sort of acknowledgement of their first meeting. Acknowledgement of the fiery bond fashioned by heated flesh that smouldered in the sun. Wanting… well, hardly knowing what he wanted.

Whilst the others sank beneath the surface of consciousness like stones into a river, William had reached out a hand and lightly trailed fingers through silky, smooth hair, letting it spill over his hand, enjoying the contrast of the dark tresses against the white of his skin. Then one night Angelus had turned to face him. Will had nearly fled the bed in horror, only calming when he realised his Sire was still soundly sleeping.

He used to examine the face in repose, the dark fan of lashes, the shape of his lip, reaching out a finger and tentatively tracing the outline of the strong jaw. So it continued. Each night he became bolder, until finally he found the courage to nuzzle into a space that seemed made for him, the crook where shoulder and arm met, where he could lay and breathe his sire in. Night after night the same routine. Angelus would always turn towards him and William would give in to his fledgling instincts and immerse himself in the scent of his sire.

Then one morning he awoke to the shocking realisation that he'd fallen asleep before moving away. They were still wrapped together… Angelus' eyes were open and had a look in them that William couldn't decipher. He'd leapt away in guilt, desperately trying to remove himself from the tangle of bedding and limbs. And then staring in dismay at his Sire, he recognised that there was nothing ambivalent in those stormy eyes, only a dark anger that made William determined to never show, by look or word, how much he needed the comfort of his Sire's touch.

Spike moved uneasily as these memories returned. His legs were throbbing in agony and he was having difficulty getting back to sleep. He contemplated the sleeping vampire. The features were still the same but he was kind of sad to notice that the overall appearance was more careworn. He reached out as though he would smooth the care away and sighed as he remembered the bandages. He shifted slightly and was rewarded with another burst of pain that blossomed through his body. He began to breathe and automatically reached for the comfort he'd known as a fledgling, turning his head once more into that comforting crook and surrounding himself with the scent that meant safety and home.

oooo

Angel started the new day pretty much as he had the old one. He woke up and felt pretty good. He showered and felt revitalized. He warmed Spike some blood and felt needed. He was happy and buzzing until the elevator began to bring him down. He entered the morning meeting and the weight of his frown dragged at the rest of the team.

Fred began by reporting that there was evidence that someone had gained access to all their files.

"There's no indication of tampering, but someone has been systematically rifling through our computer files."

"Hackers?" Wesley queried.

"No. I'm pretty sure it was internal. They knew all our codes, passwords and encryption devices."

Angel could feel his mood turning blacker. He sat forward and laced his hands together in front of him.

"Eve? Would you care to comment?"

Eve gave a small shrug.

"I know no more than you, kids. But the Senior Partners like to keep a close eye on all their branches."

Angel could feel the tic starting up in his jaw and slowly forced his teeth to unclench.

"They could have just asked us."

"I'm sure they will. But you know how it is with some people.  
They like to know the answer before they ask the question."

"Ask questions? We're going to get a visit from the Senior Partners?"

"I'm sure I couldn't say."

Jeez, this was like pulling teeth. Her smug smile gave Angel an idea of whose teeth he'd like to pull.

Wesley cleared his throat and then wished he hadn't. It made him sound nervous. Angel's eyes swivelled to him.

"Make it some good news, Wes."

He pushed back his glasses and then resolutely looked Angel in the eye.

"I'm sorry. There's evidence that there is another Chanokar demon residing in the area…"

"More corpses?"

Wesley nodded.

"Damn! Ok. At least we know how to deal with them now. We'll… I'll hunt it down tonight."

The morning wore on and Angel found himself increasingly frustrated by the sheer stupidity of the things he had to tolerate at W&H, and there was no one he could legitimately blame or fire or behead. Instead, the tension gradually mounted throughout the day. It was all beginning to build up once more. He wielded too much authority to unleash his temper on his underlings and too much power physically to lose it with anyone else.

He became snappy and unapproachable.

By midday Angel felt as if he'd put in a full week's work. He took a break and his thoughts wandered to Spike yet again. He found it kind of weird not having him hanging around, although he couldn't really put his finger on why. It wasn't as if he ever made a contribution to company life or was any sort of help. In fact, really he ought to be grateful for the respite. The only relevance Spike had was in adding his dime's worth and making a bad situation worse.

Angel frowned in irritation, he was trying to follow a train of thought but he could hear people talking outside his office. Surely they should know by now about sensitive vamp ears? Those ears pricked up when they heard his name mentioned.

"What the hell is up with the Boss?"

"He's missing Spike."

Angel heard Fred's reply and gave a snort that was echoed by Gunn.

"Are you kidding me girl? All they do is bicker and fight."

"But have you ever thought about why they do it?"

"My guess is, just of the top of my head here, you understand, they hate each other."

Angel frowned. Was that right? Maybe yesterday, but this morning...

"Well you'd be wrong, Charles. Shall I tell you what Spike said?"

Angel was straining towards the conversation. He wanted to join in and urge Fred to continue.

"He said that they kept each other sane by driving each other mental. That Angel shouldn't be expected to be mature and reasonable 24/7. That it wasn't healthy for him."

"So Spike winds him up for the good of his health?"

Gunn sounded slightly disbelieving and Angel sided with Gunn on this one.

"He lets Angel explode at the little things to enable him to deal with the big things. He's sort of like the earth for Angel's lightening, making sure it strikes without damaging anything of value. Although, I don't think it's totally selfless, they both kinda enjoy the game."

"Does Angel realise this?" Wes asked.

"Well if he doesn't he ought to. I mean I managed to figure it out…"

"Yeah. But you like Spike…well, you know what I mean. You're the only one of us who really looks at him and sees what's there."

"He's easy to read. You just have to ignore his words and look to his actions and results."

They moved away out of earshot, leaving Angel staring blankly at his monitor.

Once she was sure that she was out of range, she turned to the others with an uncertain smile.

"Was that ok? D'ya think he got it?"

"You were marvellous." Wesley replied warmly.

"If the guy didn't get that then we go back to my original sledgehammer idea."

"Ya don't think it was kinda… interfering?"

"Not at all. I wouldn't call it interfering. A friendly intervention."

"I don't care if it was interference. Man, I remember last time the dude lost it."

Fred looked concerned.

"Uh… what happened last time?"

"He sacked us."

"And left a roomful of lawyers to die."

"Oh! Maybe we could go back and I'll make it a bit clearer…?"

Another thought occurred, causing a wrinkle of uneasiness on her open face.

"Ya don't think Spike'll mind that I told Angel what he said?"

"Well technically you didn't." Gunn pointed out. "Is it your fault that super-vamp hearing caught you out?"

"If anything bad comes of this..."

"Whatever happens, it was time that Angel woke up to what was going around him. For good or bad we did the right thing. I'm certain of it."

"Ya think?" She smiled trustingly at Wesley.

oooo

His brain turned away from the conversation, He wasn't yet ready to process everything he'd overheard. Yet he couldn't turn his thought to anything else. Old conversations and disputes were running continuously through his head. Was Fred right?

He'd always known that the attitude and the posturing and the words were a façade but he'd never thought about what might be hidden behind it. Never been interested enough to try and Spike himself discouraged such investigation with his leather and fury attitude. But was it all a diversion? If so why? What was he diverting attention from?

Angel didn't like having so many unanswered questions. Instead he turned to practicalities, yet even these were Spike orientated. He remembered the promised entertainment and buzzed through. Gunn knew gadgets and Harmony knew Spike, so they drew the short straw. He called them in and told them they were going shopping.

Gunn was in the middle of pulling together a case and couldn't believe that shopping was suddenly now more important, but Angel was adamant.

"Nothing in pink." Angel shot a warning glance at Harmony.

"And no opera."

Damn. He'd been humming Three Little Maids from School' again. He really needed to get some cooler tracks before his street cred was shot to hell. He covered his mortification with complaint.

"Brain upgraded to the size of a planet and what happens? The Boss sends me shopping with the damned Fanged Barbie."

Harmony was dancing in anticipation of spending big bucks and looked confused at Gunn's attitude.

"Huh? So you're saying brainy people don't shop?"

She was a little incredulous, until she spotted Fred in her neat but plain clothes, and her eyes lit up with understanding. She gave a knowing nod.

"Ohhh! Duh. I see what you mean." Her eyes rolled at her own stupidity. "They shop, but they just don't do it very well…"

She ended in a stage whisper that had Fred looking across with a frown of suspicion. Harmony gave her a little wave and tucked her hand happily under Gunn's arm with a delightful, frothy feeling of superiority.

"Luckily, you've got me, Marvin. Let's go shopping."

Man, he was so not looking forward to this.

"You know? Why don't they make a Vampire Barbie? It would be kinda neat and the kids would love it. It could have cute little retractable fangs…"

Gunn came to a stop, his face a screwed up mixture of disbelief and revulsion.

"We don't need no blood-sucking Barbie, it's just… gross."

"But…"

"No. If we're shopping together, no more talking about it, ok?"

"Well, ok. Sheesh. Just trying to make conversation. It wouldn't hurt you to be sociable occasionally."

They began walking again and she searched her head for another topic of conversation.

"So, what do you think of a Vampire Ken…?" She smiled brightly.

oooo

He worked quietly and calmly through his reports all afternoon, barricading his mind with drudgery and tedium.

Harmony and a frazzled looking Gunn returned from their expedition, calling for security to help with the profusion of bags and boxes. They were noisily bickering.

Angel studied them curiously, as though he could find crib notes written in their behaviour. But Harmony truly was an idiot and they didn't have a hundred and twenty five years of history flaring behind them like the fiery tail of a comet. He found no clues to guide him.

Jesus… how big was that box? That was never going to fit in the elevator. He kept half an eye on them, as red faced security men manoeuvred and cursed under Gunn and Harmony's contradictory instructions, and then after fifteen minutes of frustrating exertion, Angel was proved right. They were going to have to carry it up the stairs. He almost felt sorry for the exhausted men. Gunn was glancing towards him and he quickly buried himself back under his mountain of papers.

"Boss…?"

"Sorry." Angel raised regretful eyes. "I'd help, just kinda snowed under here."

Gunn looked suspicious but nodded and left. Angel watched, curious to see how they would handle it. They were arguing again, Gunn was gesturing and Harmony rolling her eyes. Then these two disparate people seemed to reach some kind of accord. Gunn was taking off his jacket and Harmony was shoving back the sleeves of her little pink bolero. They picked up the heavy box and were using his brain and human strength, and her vampire brawn to achieve the task.

Oh… She really should have taken those shoes off first. Her foot wobbled and twisted. The box became unbalanced and Gunn lost his grip, the full weight suddenly fell to Harmony which knocked her off balance and she fell sideways on the steps, the box crashing into her. Angel half rose from the desk, expecting to have to intervene. He waited for Gunn to check the box and rant at her stupidity for not removing her dangerously high-heeled shoes beforehand. But Gunn surprised him by ignoring the box and racing to her side, reaching out a hand…

The instructions he'd been searching for were in front of him, with all the simplicity of a children's story book, illustrated with pictures and written in large bold print. If those two could achieve amicable relations surely there was hope for all of them? He and Spike had lived so long with their childishness, violence and lies that Angel no longer knew what the truth was anymore. And he wanted to find out; because the conversation he'd overheard earlier seemed to indicate that his idiot childe was at least one step ahead of him.

He rose from his desk, checked on Harmony and then helped them upstairs with the box. Sometimes he forgot that fighting the fight wasn't always about the big picture. It was sometimes about the detail and small acts of kindness that was the heart of humanity. It was recognising who was on your side and working with them, giving them the respect their actions deserved. He was learning again the basic lessons that had become swamped in the enormity of what he had taken on as CEO.

The rest of the afternoon was spent tuning out the bustle and noise and contemplating the blur of papers in front of his eyes. Yet appearances and thoughts bore no synchronicity. His eyes bore into yet another report whilst his mind took more unfamiliar routes, veering wildly off-road and bumping down unexplored dirt tracks. But his brooding resolved nothing, could resolve nothing, until he'd faced his childe with all veneers and disguises stripped away. Did he really want to do this? Did he really want to know what lay beneath?

Darkness fell and he had one more task to deal with. The other Chanokar. He supposed he should hate the damned thing for all the pain it had caused, but in the end it was just a creature trying to survive. Of course, when demons reduced humans to nothing more than cattle and prey then he had to act. He was still the hero, the Champion, and this is what he did.

He had its scent and could track it easily. Normally Angel would have enjoyed the fight, but he was preoccupied and all his aggression had dissipated. He cautiously watched the seemingly human figure. He knew how it fought and he knew about the strike from the paralysing appendage. Hard won knowledge, admittedly.

He watched it approach and contemplated how these Chanokars had become irrecoverably bound to his own story. They were a catalyst to a deep change and Angel could feel the fingers of this change brushing lightly over his soul. He wished he could give the creature a quick death, a clean beheading. There again what was more cleansing that flame?

The Chanokar turned towards him, seeing only a rabbit waiting to be skinned. Angel waited, head cocked to one side, the weight of the lighter in his hand.

"Hi there. I'm Angel. I think I ran into a friend of yours a couple of days ago…?"

The thing's face seemed to ripple and change with fury. Angel was reminded how he'd felt when Spike was injured… how would he have reacted if Spike had been dusted? He almost lost his concentration and buried the disturbing thought, turning his focus back to the enraged demon.

"You…!"

"Yeah. Me." He gave an apologetic shrug, it was kind of sincere. "Sorry."

He was anticipating the attack. The thing leapt into attack, confident of its invulnerability. As the darting proboscis appeared, Angel caught it, brought up his knife and sliced through the dangerous tube of flesh.

The scream was horrific, a high pitched sound that soared through the night, shattering glass and hanging like a banshee's wail over the empty streets. Then a click and a small flickering, flame in the darkness. Angel ended its misery and pain, standing back as it flared and exploded into slime and noxious gases.

He stood a minute and contemplated the lighter, there was something significant hidden within its dull, silver casing, but the thought hovered just outside his grasp. He returned it to his pocket and meandered his way through darkened streets until he saw the offices towering in front of him. It was time. There were no other tasks that he could distract himself with.

Honesty. He was an honest guy. He could do honesty with Spike just for this one night. The place was lit by low emergency lighting, shrouded in semi-darkness and silence. There were no more excuses. Except maybe he should finish reading that report… He ran his fingers through his hair, sighed and headed to the elevator taking his first shaky steps towards Spike

When he entered the apartment the other vampire was already awake. His face looked strained and his skin thin and papery, but he managed a nod of greeting.

"Hey, Peaches. Another good day?"

Was that supposed to be his cue to swear and rant? He guessed that normally he would have taken the opportunity to release his tension. Angel stared at him, determined to manoeuvre through the habitual smokescreens and his own automatic responses to long established stimuli.

"Yeah, it was ok." This was honest enough, for a W&H day it had been pretty average. "Have you taken you painkillers?"

"Just now."

"You need to take them more often. I'll visit a couple of times during the day and make sure you're ok."

"Nah. I'm fine. And anyway I know how it is. You get stuck in a meeting or another crisis…"

"Doesn't matter. I'll come up during the day and check on you."

Spike stared at him and then shook his head as though shaking off cobwebs.

"So, work ok? Get involved in any more grubby demon sex?" He asked with a cocked eyebrow and a sly grin.

Angel counted that as his next cue. He didn't rise to the bait but busied around with blood bags and gave Spike the answer he deserved as an ally and an adult.

"No, but apparently three more Tsrt demons called asking for us to take on their cases, so I guess that all worked out ok in the end. There was another Chanokar, but I've taken care of it. Oh, I think the Senior Partners are investigating us."

Spike looked at him suspiciously.

"You're being surprisingly calm, Pet. Harmony been spiking your blood with tranquilizers?"

Angel shook his head

"Talking of blood, remind me to check your wounds tonight."

Spike was looking distinctly nervous as he contemplated how truly vulnerable he was. He was stuck in bed and unable to move, in an apartment where even if they did hear you scream, they probably wouldn't care. What the hell had he been thinking of, placing himself in such a vulnerable position? Why hadn't he insisted on being taken back to his own little basement? Oh yeah, cus his basement was wank and Peaches had been on a guilt-trip.

"Hey, that is you, yeah? This ain't the calm before you do the psycho killer bit, is it?"

Angel's lips nudged into a smile but there was something in his eyes that Spike couldn't translate. It was confusing; he thought he could read his Sire like a book.

"No. It's just because I forgot to say thank you. Thank you for saving me."

A slight frown as Spike tried to suss out whether Angel was taking the piss, but his probing eyes discovered only truth.

"Well, alright then."

His bloody brilliant plan had failed, but continental plates must have somehow shifted anyway, because a crack had appeared in Angel's world and approval flowed through it like melted rock forced from the heart of the earth. The heat of it lit Spike up like candles on a cake. His 125th Deathday hadn't been a complete loss. He looked down and then shyly raised his eyes. A small smile hovering on his lips.

All it took was a thank you' to see this expression on Spike's face and it shamed Angel to realise that he'd never seen the look before. Spike noticed the clouds that obscured his face and misunderstood.

"Hey, it's ok. I know you'd have done the same for me."

Angel found it difficult to talk about things that really mattered, but he knew he had to. He got up, walked across to the window and stared out at the LA cityscape. He watched rows of headlights moving smoothly along their preordained paths, one after another, they always reminded him of shiny jewels running along a chain, or rosary beads flicking through the fingers of a penitent. An ironic smile crossed his mouth and he wished that that was all it took, a hundred Hail Mary's and an Our Father and all was forgiven.

He enjoyed looking out over his city, where a million people lived a million lives, all as desperate as him to make a connection. Maybe he was one of the lucky ones. Maybe he had a chance to crack the stone that encased him, if he was willing to take the chance.

"I'm not talking about the other night. I mean, yeah, that too, but..."

Spike was looking with curiosity shining bright in his eyes, watching as his sire pulled out the lighter. Spike almost spoke, he'd been searching in vain for it for the past two days, but something in Angel's stance held him mute.

Angel liked the weight of it in his hand. It was solid and dependable. He turned it over and examined the battered, worn, casing. He frowned. The casing didn't describe the lighter, gave no clue as to its nature. His touch flicked the flame into life. Here was the essence of it. He stared into the heart of the luminous light.

When he spoke his voice was low and considered.

"I mean everyday, I go down and I'm swamped by problems and evil and ambivalence. It's overwhelming. And every day I drown in it. But you're there like a small flame in the darkness. Sometimes you burn me up, make my eyes explode in their sockets and my skin blister and bubble. But that's what light does."

He raised his eyes from the flame, to the light that he could now see burning so brightly within his childe.

"And everyday you save me."

There was something fragile in Spike's face, it was reminiscent of William.

"I…" Spike moistened his lips but nothing more emerged.

"It's ok. Don't say anything."

He'd found what he was looking for. He'd worked his way through all the diversions and used the blade of naked honesty to cut through Spike's defences. Tomorrow things would fall into their normal pattern, but tonight….

He knew what he'd seen suspended in the swim of blue.

He got into bed next to Spike and gently helped him into the crook of his shoulder. Finally acknowledging all those night he'd turned towards William and waited for his childe to nuzzle against him and find his place in that un-beating hollow between his shoulders and his chest.


	3. Part 3

**Title: **Relevance of Spike

**Author: **Stakeaclaim

**Summary:** Angel is trying to change but then a new game brings a new dilemma…

**Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

**Feedback:** Please let me know what you think…

**A/N: **Thanks again to stars91 for the beta and for her marvellous support! Also thank you for your wonderful feedback I hope you like this one too.

**The Relevance of Spike**

**Part 3**

"Everyday you save me… "

Bloody amusing really. A sardonic smile bloomed but wilted quickly, as though it took too much effort to sustain.

Drugged up on painkillers and floating in and out of consciousness as shifting, growing bones reformed themselves to some demonic blueprint of his body; the sensation was all too familiar. It was painful, made his very marrow itch and channelled all his vast reserves of energy towards this restoration, leaving him drifting, lifeless and listless.

Spike reflected that it was no wonder that he'd been having some truly messed up hallucinations. He knew what his stupid brain was doing; projecting his inability to save Buffy into his fear of not being strong enough to help his sire. He might not be old in demon terms but even he had heard of the Wolf, Ram and Hart. It was shocking that someone as astute as Angel had been naïve enough to become ensnared in their toils, but what was done was done. Everyday his sire became more immersed in this stinking pit of malevolence and no-win compromises, and there was nothing anyone could do. It was insidious and the older vampire would eventually be swallowed whole, leaving Spike truly alone.

He guessed he'd first noticed after the fight for the Cup of Eternal Torment. Winning had given him an inner surety and confidence, putting to bed old insecurities, laying to rest long held resentment and allowing him to focus beyond himself. He finally saw Angel as something other than the creator of all his woes.

Sometimes he looked at the bowed, dark head and the broad shoulders which grew more stooped each passing day and felt as though his beautiful, strong sire was dying away before his eyes. He was surprised how it grieved him; turning away to prevent the dark mourning from seeping out, until he had it contained and locked down, then he'd turn to bully the spark and strength back into the fading man. Of course, Angel didn't realise his motives, which suited Spike.

He frowned.

At least he hoped this was still true and that the hallucinations and pseudo-memories of the previous night were the product of his twisting imagination. Afraid, otherwise, of what he might have given away and that the image he projected and protected had splintered, reflecting a hundred facets of himself. But a tiny part of him wished that Angel would use his razor-sharp vision to cut through the white noise and actually see the Spike he'd become and not the Spike held in unchanging stasis within Angelus' memory. He looked for clues in Angel's attitude, searching for the line between reality and illusion in his solid presence. But he found it hard to judge. Angel was naturally taciturn and his attitude could be interpreted as no more than casual care for an injured childe, which Spike supposed was a step up in their relationship. He sighed loudly. Perhaps it didn't matter.

He looked around the room, hating this feeling of being trapped. He was a demon whirlwind of movement and violence and didn't do peace or quiet. Having it enforced, even by his own injures and fatigue, was galling and endlessly frustrating. He began flicking clumsily through his CD's pulling out discs and carelessly tossing cases to one side, but even his favourite tracks were nothing but an irritating background drone.

The new TV screen hanging on the wall drew his eye and a small surge of pleasure pulsed through him. It was the size of a freaking football pitch and Peaches had bought it for him… he thought it might be the first gift that his sire had ever given him. Well, the first that didn't have a heartbeat. Although he'd asked, he never actually imagined such treasure would be his and couldn't begin to fathom the symbolism of such a gift.

His concentration was as shot as his legs, and staring at incomprehensible creatures with tellies in their tummies wasn't helping… it was confusing the hell out of him. His imagination was painting a picture of strung out TV execs and writers throwing out their trippy dreams through the blow of aromatic smog that might pass as a creative atmosphere when viewed through dark shades on a black, moonless night. It was the only way he could account for the weirdness that assaulted his eyes. He gave a mental shrug; such was the fodder humans fed their offspring.

Picking up the remote control, he flicked again and again. The blur of images made as much sense to him as anything else currently showing. Eventually he became bored of even that slight amusement, clicking off and letting the screen fade to blankness.

Convalescence had reached the unsettled and fidgety stage. Angel had told the others to stay away and let him sleep but his very skin was crawling with the tedium. Too tired to concentrate on films or games or even music, but well enough to want distraction, he lay there feeling crushed by the weight of silence. In all his one hundred and twenty-five years he'd never voluntarily experienced tranquillity. The lack of noise left an emptiness, which was filled by the rush of disturbing thoughts. He didn't want to think. Hell was being left alone with his own thoughts.

The boredom was killing him.

The four wall, the ceiling, the floor, it might just as well be a coffin. This was ennui to the nth degree and every Sunday he had ever known: sitting in his nursery without lessons or playmates, distracting himself with inanimate coloured bricks, when all he wanted to do was run and laugh and play; sitting next to Mother on an uncomfortable wooden pew in a draughty old church, whilst the parson droned out his tiresome homilies in his monotone style; a new vampire thrown from the room by Darla, trapped by the sunlight, kicking around the house, whilst the other played their games. Those were the times when the beat of eternity was suspended between each tick of the clock. And they were nothing compared to the current deadly tedium.

Angel was as good as his word and visited at lunchtime, taking in the pale slack face and deadened eyes, noting how detrimental confinement was to his hyperactive childe. He then swept his gaze over the detritus of his bedroom and silently mourned his ruined sanctuary. It was enough to threaten the mental stability of anyone who loved order as much as he did. He shook his head and found a solution that might deal with both these problems.

"This is no good. I can't walk in here without landing on some disc or other. There's large room across the way that's just being used for storage, I'll annex it and you can shift your things in there."

"You're chucking me out?" That roused him from his semi-comatose state; a spark of life in those grey-day eyes and even Spike was surprised at the disappointment that suffused him.

It wasn't what Angel meant at all, but he was intrigued by the perturbed expression that flitted across Spike's face.

"You want to stay?"

"Not particularly…but supposing I need my painkillers during the night? How will you know if I'm hurting if you're not there?" As soon as he uttered the words Spike sensed that he had slipped up.

Blue eyes refused to meet his own: as though afraid of what they would reveal. But the words had been spoken aloud and Angel didn't need to read what was written in his eyes. Spike, wanted to stay with him! The words formed a tune and danced a reel in his head. Goddammit, now the boy was pouting and how frigging cute was that? Angel managed to keep a straight face and nodded his head seriously.

"Hmmm, I should have thought of that. How about we make the other room into a day room? Give you a change of scenery and you can have your things strewn around without ruining the bedroom." He graciously made his offer without revealing that it had been his original intention.

Spike managed to contain a sigh of relief that his words had been taken at face value. He felt as though they were both dancing around each other, waiting for the misstep, mistiming or collision to push them in some new direction that neither could yet determine.

"Uh huh. S'pose that would be okay. Be more convenient when people want to visit, kinda awkward hanging out in a bedroom."

"Yeah. We could always work there occasionally. You can do some of the computer work or research if you feel up to it."

Angel's offer was a tentative stretch towards his childe, attempting to entice Spike towards him. But instead of following his lead, Spike was sent whirling away.

"Work? I'm not a member of your staff. Also, mortally injured vampire here!"

The vehement reply was over-quick and raised eyebrows greeted this remark.

"Mortally? Anyway, you don't want your brain to atrophy."

"First time you've admitted that I've got one. And, can I just point out; you bloody hate me being involved in your business. You ain't fallen on your head recently have you?" This was uttered with a mock look of concern.

There was something about Spike's attitude… like a fawn tentatively reaching out a slender neck towards a hand to investigate what was being offered. So Angel spoke calmly and soothingly, in a normal fashion, so as not to startle him or frighten him away.

"Not that I've noticed. I guess I've been working too hard and sleeping too little, well-known cause of delusions."

"You do look a little tired. Well, guess I could help out occasionally…"

Spike gave in with feigned reluctance. Angel could hardly contain his glee; he could almost feel the soft warmth of the little fawn tongue licking salt from his hand.

"Yeah? I would appreciate it. We'll arrange a contract to recompense you for your work."

A shake of the head. "Nah. Don't mind doing you a favour occasionally, but I don't wanna work for you."

"Don't turn your nose up at money, Childe. Look at all the stuff it buys."

"Yeah, but I don't need it. I got you."

Angel didn't disagree but wondered how much of the previous evening his childe actually remembered. The words were kind of flippant. Perhaps Spike had been too spaced out to trust his memories or maybe after one hundred years, he couldn't trust such a change on the basis of one late night conversation. It was about actions and Angel was grateful that he'd remembered to buy Spike's entertainment, some small proof that shouted louder than a thousand words. He made his reply non-committal, determined from now on that his actions would do the talking.

"You'll feel trapped if you're dependent on me for anything."

"Huh. That's true."

He felt surprised. Did the Poof really know him that well? When had that happened?

"Ok, I'll consider your offer."

So Angel acted, called into work, rearranged his schedule and spent the day happily de-cluttering the bedroom in preparation for the new room, with Spike providing a running commentary. Watching Peaches was a damned sight more amusing than the Teletubbies.

"The House Doctor would be proud of you, Pet."

"I haven't a clue who he is, but a tidy room is a tidy mind."

Spike grimaced at the cliché.

"Please, spare me the soporifics. The saying should be; a tidy mind means an anally retentive man."

Angel was finding intense satisfaction in regaining some sense of order in his life and the insult flew well beneath his radar.

"You might be able to sleep on a bed of hard edged plastic," He picked up another CD case that had worked its way between the sheets and placed it next to the bedside, "but I can't. I need my sleep. I'm trying to run a multi-dimensional company and I kinda have to stay at the top of my game."

"Yeah, yeah. Big company bossman I get it."

"I'm just saying I can't be tired or dozy. I can't afford an off day when I'm dealing with Wolfram & Hart clients. Fifty percent of this game is ninety percent mental." Angel informed him, his tone slightly sententious.

Spike's face screwed up as he contemplated this.

"I'm no mathematician but I'd say there's definitely something off in that equation, Pet."

"It's a quote, braintrust. Yogi Berra."

Spike shot him a look of disbelief and shook his head. Luckily Wesley and Gunn arrived at that moment bearing gifts, so Angel left them to it and went to explore the storage room, sighing in contentment as he looked around the large, dusty room and set loose his inner interior designer.

"I never thought I'd be pleased to see you two." He greeted them

"Well, thank you Spike. I'm uncertain if I've just received a compliment or an insult…"

"Me give compliments? Bollocks! Course it was a bloody insult!"

"Ah quite."

"Yo. Good to see you too, Bloodsucker. Wassup?"

"Mind numbing boredom." He grouched.

"Man, how can you be bored? The boss forced me to endure a day with Airhead, just to provide you with mega entertainment."

"Yeah?" Spike looked suitably impressed. "You really did suffer, didn't you? I 'preciate it, Mate. Take no notice of me. I hate it when I can't move."

Wesley nodded in sympathy as he attempted a subtle probe.

"And, of course, being dependent on Angel must be extremely frustrating for you."

Spike had never thought of it like that. He'd actually rather enjoyed having his Sire's attention.

"Yeah. Obviously… frustrating. And also, Angel is getting seriously weird. You must have noticed?"

They both shook their heads and wondered if their manoeuvring and machinations had really paid off, if 'weird' was all that had come out of it.

"He's concerned about you, which, admittedly, seems a little odd. He also seems happier today, but apart from that… In precisely what sense is he being weird?"

"The old Sire is really losing it. Talking bloody nonsense and quoting Yogi Bear."

"That is… well, disturbing, actually. Quite unlike Angel. I can't really imagine him walking around the office saying yabbadabbadoo." Wesley agreed with a frown.

Spike rolled his eyes.

"That's Fred." Gunn explained.

"She's been quoting Yogi Bear too?"

Gunn and Spike exchanged incredulous looks.

"Flintstone." Spike ground out.

"Nothing wrong with quoting Yogi. I mean he's pretty cool." Gunn finally said. "And I guess Angel is a lot smarter than the average bear."

"You think?" Spike queried and only a raised eyebrow indicated his level of doubt.

Wesley's brow was a furrow of confusion. Fred and Angel walking around quoting cartoon characters was so beyond him that he pushed the matter to one side to mull over later. Instead he turned to the reason for his visit.

"Anyway, we bring the invalid presents."

"Yeah?" Spike sounded pleased and then a little wary. "It's not bleedin' grapes is it?"

"No. It's bleedin' blood." Gunn replied with a grin. He loved these weird English expletives.

Spike was looking less than thrilled.

"Hmm. Great. Uh…hate to sound ungrateful, Mate, but ain't that a bit like me bringing you a potato?"

"Ah! This is different. Harmony keeps a supply of different sorts of blood and we thought it might be the vampire equivalent of wine tasting."

Gunn pulled a face.

"Icky. I'm surprised Fred came up with the idea, it's just damned icky."

But Spike was grinning cheerfully as Wesley produced various bottles.

"Hey, is there any otter?"

Wesley undertook a quick investigation and then nodded,

"Good girl that Fred. Knew there was a reason I liked her. Where is she anyway?"

"She said she'd see you later but thought you might like some 'guy time' with us."

"Oh. Yeah."

They eyed each other… yep, definitely guys. What did guys talk about again…?

"So those Lakers, damned disappointing on Wednesday. Four points short."

Wesley and Spike looked at each other and Gunn sighed.

"So Man U v Arsenal…" Spike began hopefully.

The other two shook their heads.

"County cricket?" Wes asked. No real hope in his voice.

They had never previously noticed how quietness could shout so loudly. The room echoed with the lack of noise. Spike contemplated his legs whilst the other two shifted, caught each others eyes, exchanged small, awkward smiles and tried to look as though they were enjoying a companionable silence.

"So anyway how's work going?" Spike finally asked.

They all breathed again with relief.

"Well actually, I'm glad you asked. It's rather interesting…"

oooo

The upside of working for a powerful Company was the speed with which things could happen when it was the CEO doing the requesting. Whether it was the complete redecoration of a room or the delivery of a particularly large and comfortable couch.

That afternoon Angel managed to get everything organised and had people jumping through hoops for the privilege of working all night to make the room ready. They offered from the reservoir of goodness in their hearts and in the hope that the new psychopathic boss would hold them in favour or at least not actively disfavour them with a swipe of the lethal sword that he kept far too handy. Angel stayed up most the night to oversee the activity and ensure each item was perfectly placed for practicality and aesthetic appeal.

The following day Spike was stronger, his fingers were almost healed and the pain from his knees was almost tolerable… so he rolled out of bed, literally. He hated the damned wheelchair and the memories associated with it, but it served its purpose, enabling him to manoeuvre wherever he wanted.

Angel helped him for a while, observing with quiet delight Spike's pleasure in the new room, which was fully equipped with every gadget he'd asked for and then some. At the moment he was delving into bags and tearing open boxes, looking for all the world like some manic, hyper child, celebrating every Christmas he'd never had. Whilst he was distracted Angel surreptitiously snapped some shots of the happy vampire. He'd made his childe happy… something caught in his throat, must have been some drifting dust because it seemed to be in his eyes as well.

Much as he would like to stay, work was beckoning and he couldn't steal anymore time. There was something looming large, it hung in the air and set his nose twitching.

"Will you be alright for a while?"

Spike didn't hear, so engrossed was he in some electrical gizmo that Angel couldn't even name. Nor did he notice as the door shut quietly behind his Sire.

He spent a pleasant day fiddling with his new toys, downloading music, playing a game, watching a film, dozing for a while and then, before he had time to get bored, fractious or lonely, the others appeared, discussing current work problems, which quickly turned to more pleasing topics of office rumour and gossip. They were all relishing the company so much that to continue the evening Angel ordered takeout and opened some wine.

"Ok, enough about work. Time for some fun."

"Well it just so happens that I've brought Scrabble along with me…"

"Nah. Boring."

"No, that's fine, Wes. At least Spike can't cheat at that…."

Blue eyes glimmered. He took that statement as personal challenge.

Lorne agreed to watch and keep score.

Everyone was taking forever pondering over their letters. Gunn was attempting legal jargon, which he was forced to withdraw because the words weren't in the little dictionary. Fred was putting down scientific words, which raised eyebrows but she was far too sweet to challenge… this caused Gunn to comment on favouritism. Spike was obviously getting bored. Luckily the game didn't last long.

"Spike! You can't put 'testicu' in front of 'late' There's no such freaking word as testiculate…"

Spike threw up his arms in disgust.

"Course there is! It means waving your arms around whilst talking bollocks."

"Like you're doing at the moment?"

Angel shot back, momentarily throwing Spike off balance.

"Yeah. No…!"

"Lorne. Look it up. I'm challenging it."

"This game is gonna take all night if you lot of ignoramuses are gonna challenge every word I make. Anyway, it probably won't be in that poxy little dictionary. We need the proper 13 volume edition…"

Gunn nodded his agreement. Wesley was about to side with Angel, but Spike's testiculating managed to knock the side of the board and they all watched in silent relief as the tiles went spinning through the air.

Fred finally broke the silence.

"You know, back home we used to call it Squabble."

"Now you tell us… Dude, here's me thinking people took Poker too seriously…"

"Poker. Now there's a game…" Spike eyes held a sharp glint of avarice.

"That would hardly be fair. You two have enhanced senses, you would read us humans like open books."

Spike and Angel both looked disappointed.

"How about Monopoly?" Fred asked.

"Spike would just steal from the bank when no one was looking."

"Hey! Well, yeah. That's half the fun."

Various games were suggested and vetoed, with excuses careening between too intellectual and too childish.

"I've been sent a Predictor, why don't we have a go? It's supposed to tell you your vocation."

"Yeah? Have you tried it yet?"

"No, it's not really serious, just a bit of fun." She shrugged, slightly embarrassed at suggesting something so frivolous.

Spike wheeled himself to the pc and Fred came to help.

"There we go there's the link for it. You just type in the name…"

"Uh huh."

He fingers were still stiff and clumsy as he slowly tapped in 'Spike'.

"Well this is a pile of shite. It's at least three years behind the times."

"Evil boss." Fred read over his shoulder. "That's a coincidence, it's probably what you were meant to be before you threw the Powers a curveball and went and won yourself a soul. Try my name. What does it say?"

"Wait a second." He typed in 'Fred'.

"Fluffer. Uh, not quite you, Luv."

"I think it's cute. I had a friend who used to do it, back home. They're so soothing to pet. Well, the big growly ones, not so much." She gave a laugh. "And kitties… I mean, sure they're cute, but they can be vicious and spiteful and all."

"What does she think she's talking about?" Angel mouthed silently.

"Pet grooming, at a guess." Wesley replied in hushed tones.

"Thank God for that."

"Quite."

"Let's try your full name shall we, Pet?"

"There we go; Winifred Burkle. Umm…"

"A computer nerd?"

"Nerd is just a derogatory term used by the ignorant to describe someone who is incredibly gifted." Wesley soothed.

"Thanks. But I do know what a nerd is." Fred replied with a slight tartness. "I'm not stupid, just…nerdy. Oh well, I guess it's right. Full marks again," But under her breath she muttered crossly, "Zero marks for tact though."

"Oops, sorry Pet. Bloody fingers, I put two u's into Burkle. There you go, you're a…"

"Oh. A god?" Her face scrunched up as she considered this.

"Well you're a science god." Gunn grinned.

Spike looked slyly at Wesley.

"And you've got a couple of worshippers already."

"Really? Who?"

A grin spread slowly across her face. Wesley's eyes bore pleadingly into Spike.

"Well there's that Knoxy bloke for a start…"

"Oh him."

She waved her hands dismissively and some of the anxiety left Wesley's face. He glowed with warmth and she seemed to feel the heat of it, turning towards him with a shy smile.

"Let's do Chuck next." Spike was beginning to enjoy this.

"Charles…your ideal job would be…pole dancer."

"Let me see that! Right, now put my surname in properly. Gunn. No, with two 'n's. Hah! Big game hunter!"

Gunn walked away with a grin on his face.

"Damn cool, man. Is that thing magic or something?"

"No. It's like fortune telling. Either consciously or subconsciously, people try to make the predictions fit themselves." Fred explained.

"Well it seems pretty accurate to me. I've been hunting demons all my life and the game don't get much bigger than that. Come on, let's test it again. Do Lorne."

Lorne waved an elegant hand of permission and took another sip of his excellent Rioja.

"What's your real name again? Krevlornswath? Give me a sec. Your ideal job would be '…in a land far, far away'."

"Hey, Metal Mickey strikes gold again."

"Huh?"

"Well, clearly I wasn't suited to my own world and here I am in my perfect job."

"It didn't say that. How do we know it's your perfect job?" Gunn asked.

"Tell ya what; try the name he uses here. Whaddya get then?"

"L-o-r-n." Spike spelt. "A garden gnome."

Lorne ignored their laughter.

"Try putting an 'e' on the end, twinkle fingers." He suggested.

"Your ideal job is… the job you have now."

"What can I say?" His lips curling into a smug smile. "Don't get to be anagogic without knowing these things, Sweetcheeks."

They could say nothing but accept the obvious truth of it.

"Wes you're up."

"Do you have to have such a long name? Wyndham Price." Spike drawled out slowly in time with his typing of the name.

"Suicide bomber? Are you sure you've spelt it right…maybe you should hyphenate? Oh, no difference. Why a suicide bomber?" Fred worried.

"I suppose it could fit." Gunn offered, without thinking through the implications of what he was saying. "I mean, we have a cause and that's what suicide bombers do, right? Give up their life for the cause."

He noticed their faces and frantically began back-pedalling.

"Hey, man. Not that I'm saying you're going to…you know…"

"It's like Fred said, you can twist it to mean whatever you want." Angel said. "It makes this thing dangerous, guiding gullible people in a direction they were never meant to go."

Spike moved swiftly in support.

"Yeah, like a gypsy telling a girl that the love of their life is gonna be tall, dark and handsome, so all the perfectly decent, slightly shorter, blonder, handsome blokes never get a second glance."

"I know how these things work, but thank you for that Spike. If ever I feel like I'm about to undertake some foolhardy suicide mission, I will certainly mention it first and give you all a chance to talk me out of it."

"Or push you into it, depending how facetious you're being at the time."

Wesley gave a slight smile as Spike raised his eyebrows at him.

"I really think we've had enough of this now. You're acting like kids around the Ouija board." Angel frowned at them.

Professional hierarchies dropped away as the wine worked its magic and they became more relaxed.

"Come on, Angel, us kids need our playtime." Gunn pouted childishly.

"Is Angel Mr Grumpy-Pants because we've left him out?" Fred asked brightly, the alcohol giving her face a healthy pink glow.

"No these things are dangerous and you're…"

"See what I had to put up with for twenty years? Never any fun."

"So guess what Angel should be…"

"The lovely Titania, queen of the fairies." Lorne closed his eyes dreamily, vermilion lips twitching at the thought of Angelcakes stomping angrily around the stage dressed in a fairy costume.

"Irish heavyweight broodboy champion?" Gunn chipped in.

"Heavyweight?" Angel took exception to that.

"An accountant? Well he has that permanent frown that accountants get…"

"Perhaps he'll join 'Gun' in the pole dancing." Fred suggested with a wicked glint.

They all got a sudden startling picture that stunned them to silence.

"We've really gotta get some more females here, they'd get it." She complained.

"Hey, Hunbun. Little black shorts and a large pole, I'm with you all the way."

"Man, did you have to? I've got that image stuck in my head and, damn, it's scary." Gunn shifted uncomfortably.

Spike broke the silence.

"Like your style, Pet. But, nah, the destinies love him. He'll end up as emperor or a poncey king of the underworld."

"What is this? Open season on Angel?" Angel asked with some real irritation. "Oh, jeez, just tell them, and put us out of our misery."

"Ok…. An astronaut."

"Well that's…"

"Crap." Gunn finished off.

"Disappointing." Wesley agreed.

"Pretty meaningless." Angel replied softly, turning away to pour another drink.

"An astronaut is sort of up in the sky like an angel?" Fred offered weakly.

"Don't be a load of plonkers. Course it's Angel."

"Spike. Don't."

Spike looked at Angel's pleading eyes and slowly nodded his agreement.

"Only teasing. It's all a load of bollocks."

Somehow that seemed to break up the playful atmosphere. They began to yawn and stretch, before making their excuses and leaving the vampires to themselves.

"What was that about? Being an astronaut would be a great thing, wouldn't it?" Fred asked, as they made their way down in the elevator.

"Maybe if you chose it and knew one day you'd come back." Wesley answered.

"So you're saying…what are you saying?" Gunn sounded as confused as Fred felt.

"I'm saying would you really like to be trapped in darkness, surrounded by a void that prevented you from reaching out. Hearing people but never being able to touch or participate? Because that's what the curse has done to him, it's deprived him of any chance of physical connection. He'll never be part of the world the way we are. He'll strive towards heaven and all he'll find is more emptiness and loneliness. Being an astronaut is probably the most solitary job in the world."

"When you put it like that, I guess you got off lightly being a suicide bomber."

"Yes, quite. Thank you for that comforting thought. However, there's always the hope that if he reaches high enough, one day he'll get his wish and touch heaven."

oooo

Spike levered himself out of his chair and plonked himself onto the couch. They sat in companionable silence and Angel wondered what the other vampire was thinking about so intensely.

"I think maybe I should change my name, I'm not an evil boss anymore. You have Angel and Angelus." He finally said.

"Spikelus?"

"I tried that, it told me I'd be a prostitute! Yeah you can laugh – Liam was the rear of a pantomime cow."

"Huh. Sounds about right. What was William?"

"Librarian."

"Bit too cute. Where the hell did that Predictor come from?"

"I dunno, but it gives me the willies."

"So a new name. What else did you try?"

"Well I thought of Flame, seeing I died in a fire but that just gave some stupid answer. Whaddya think of Ghost?"

"You're not keen on the more traditional names, are you?"

"I'm drawn to Ghost. I mean, I was one. And then I feel like I've come back less substantial."

Angel raised his eyebrows, he couldn't see it personally.

"You want me to call you Ghost?"

"No…I mean still call me…well call me what the hell you like, you normally do."

"I guess you could have a pseudonym."

"I suppose."

"What did the job predictor say about Ghost?"

"Hunter gatherer."

"That's a bit… nondescript. I mean, isn't this your opportunity to choose a destiny?"

"I know, but this one called to me. I mean hunter, obvious yeah? Gatherer…well maybe that's the saving people bit, going out, gathering up the weak and helpless?"

"Woolly."

"Maybe it's something that will reveal itself in time."

"You look like a Ghost with your pale skin and white hair."

"Blonde."

"I like Spike."

"Hey. Don't start getting all..." His alcohol-blurred mind searched the corners of his brain for the appropriate word that was hovering tantalising on the boundary of thought. He grasped towards it...sensible… sensitive… "… sentimental."

"Jeez. I meant the name 'Spike'."

"Oh. You used to hate it."

"It grew on me."

"Ok. I'll stay as Spike, the evil boss."

Angel reflected later that it must have been the wine speaking. There was no other way to account for what came next. A chance collision of the wrong idea at the wrong time was about to change the tempo of the dance altogether.

"Perhaps we're looking at this wrong. We're not in this alone anymore, are we? We've been thrown together so many times, maybe its time we took the hint and began to work together. I'll stop being an astronaut and you'll stop being an evil boss. Where did the 'boss' bit come from, by the way?"

"Former master of Sunnydale here, ta very much. Anyway your point being? Always assuming you have one."

"Is that Predictor still on the computer?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I'll put in 'Angel and Spike'. Maybe we can work out a better destiny working together."

Spike heard the staccato tap of the keyboard and wondered just how inebriated the other vampire was. It was ridiculous; they could hardly stand each other. There was no Angel and Spike. The tapping noise stopped and Spike twisted his head around.

"Well?"

Silence.

"Peaches?"

"Come on, it can't be that bad."

Angel moved away and Spike's keen vision zoned into the single word, just before it was deleted with a single keystroke.

"Just nonsense. Says we'll be Muppet impersonators."

"Right. Nonsense then. Like Wesley's suicide bomber and Fred becoming a god."

"Uh huh."

They were silent both mulling over the word they had seen.

"So shall we go to…"

Spike was tired but suddenly realised the effect the word 'bed' would have. It would fall like a pebble into water, rippling through their imaginations. Magnified a hundredfold by the word that had appeared on the screen.

The prediction of what Angel and Spike could be.

But he'd made it even more suspicious, the word was obviously missing. He may as well have shouted it.

"Bed." God, he was such a wanker. Now with that huge gap it sounded like he was trying to be seductive.

"Sure…do you want me to carry you?"

"No! Uh, no. I'll just wheel myself in."

"Yeah, ok. I'll hold the door. Hey, mind the paintwork. I mean, it's fine. Everything's just…peachy."

They were both nervous and twitchy, but somehow got back to their bedroom without further mishap. The atmosphere was tense and they were both hyper-aware of the other, waiting for the flashpoint, a touch, a look or a word and wondered what would happen when it occurred. Spike could manage the rest of his clothes but needed help to remove his pants. There was no way he was going to ask Angel to take them off for him, particularly on top of his previous 'bed' suggestion. He needed to diffuse the situation. Ok, he had a plan.

"Ow! Bugger, jolted my bloody legs. Just help me to bed will you?"

Overdo the pain and get Angel all concerned and clinical. It worked as anticipated.

"You've been up too long, Spike. Jeez you're such a moron. You have to say when you're getting tired."

He lifted Spike to the bed, eased off his loose fitting pants and began to examine the wounds. Spike modestly draped a sheet over his hips as Angel ran his hands up and down his legs, checking for blood seepage. Spike then noticed the major flaw in his plan. Sure, Angel was all objective, but he was getting increasingly aroused by the gentle touches. And the word he'd caught on the screen wouldn't stop bouncing through his head. He needed distraction. He needed…pain. He reached up to the headboard and slumped his weight backwards against it.

Oh bloody hell!

Angel turned at the sudden yell.

"Spike, what the hell did you do?"

"Trapped my hand between the bed and the wall and, oh God, it bloody hurts! Think I might have broken a finger."

Angel shook his head in despair, carefully examining the finger, but only said; "I'll put a dressing and splint on it overnight."

Spike blinked his watery-eyed agreement. This time he hardly noticed cool hands moving over his body. Bloody crap plan, but in fairness it had done its job.

Angel finished binding the legs and hand, and smiled as he saw that Spike had fallen fast asleep. He looked so white. Huh, Ghost. He almost laughed, but then the name Angel was pretty weird. He stroked some fallen blonde strands from the high forehead. Spike was an extraordinarily good looking man, not exactly handsome… more of a sharp, delicate beauty.

He settled under his own set of covers, the thin barrier all that prevented him from reaching out, watching large hands on toned muscle and fingers gliding over silky skin. Angel was reluctant to allow Spike to nuzzle in, afraid that the suggestion made by the Predictor had tainted something innocent in its purity, but his childe was restless and wouldn't settle until he was pulled back into his place, surrounded by that familiar scent.

Angel was unsettled, his mind running constantly over the prediction for 'Angel and Spike'.

Lovers.

He finally fell into a troubled sleep and dreamt of being a lover instead of an astronaut.


	4. Part 4

Summary: Angel and Spike feel their way through the changes… badly

Warnings: m/m pairing, slight sexual content and bad language

Feedback: Please let me know what you think…

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N:Thanks to Stars for the beta and the absolutely amazing turnaround time and to luba for the read through and comments. Also I have to thank all you kind people for the feedback, emails and encouragement. I'm touched by your support.

**The Relevance of Spike**

**Part 4**

His mind was floating like driftwood in a sea of unconsciousness that lay somewhere between deep sleep and stirring awareness, that wonderland time when his subconscious tossed over the problems that weighed him down during waking hours and attempted to make sense of it all.

Papery whispers were advising him that it all came down to expectations. All he desired was physical release, whilst avoiding perfect happiness, so was it really fair to call Nina, who would surely be expecting so much more? Spike, on the other hand, held potential. He could see, in theory, how it might work. But although his brain clambered over the principle of the thing, it balked at actually imagining how it could ever come about. Their fledgling friendship was still developing and he had been more than satisfied with that. To ask for anything else verged on greediness, yet now the thought was in his head he wasn't sure how to exorcise it.

In the end there was no need to worry about exorcising anything. It was almost as though Spike knew what had been predicted and was fighting it with all he was worth. Being woken with an elbow to his ribs must surely be the most un-amorous way to start the day.

"Hey, Poof. I've been thinking about my name…"

And that nickname just about put a cap on any lingering libido.

"I'm asleep." His eyes were shut and his face squashed into his pillow.

He looked crumpled and sort of cute. Spike quickly crushed such risible thoughts. That way lay insanity.

"Yeah? Anyway, Ghost sounds ridiculous. Imagine calling on Wesley and he has to say, 'Hello Ghost. Would you care for a cuppa?' I mean, bit wank, ain't it?"

Angel opened an eye.

"This is what keeps you tossing and turning all night?"

He envied him and wished his own thoughts were as ingenuous.

"Yeah, well. A new name's important innit? Anyway, I reckon I'll use your idea and have a superhero pseudonym, you know?"

"Uh huh. Good idea."

Better than the Angel and Spike one anyway.

He turned on his back and eyed his childe. Why did he always look so good in the mornings? The bed hair was particularly enticing, begging for fingers to card through the rumpled spikes and curls. Instead Angel ran a self-conscious hand through his own soft hair, suspecting that it looked tufted and weird rather than sexily mussed.

"Superhero eh? The tights will show of your ass…."

He nearly bit his tongue. Where the hell had that come from? A couple of sleepless nights and suddenly words were thoughtlessly tumbling around like puppies let off the leash. He'd never considered Spike's ass in his life. Well, only in the spirit of manly appreciation…. Manly appreciation? His brain gave up trying to rationalise it because it wasn't working.

Spike snorted.

"You've got so many kinks, Pet, it's just untrue. Anyway, I was thinking more along the lines of leather trousers, leather coat."

Angel accepted that sleep time was over, yawned and gave in gracefully.

"Crap disguise, Ghost."

"Yeah, well. Don't need a disguise, do I? As far as anyone else is concerned Spike died a year ago. 'Ghost' is all there is."

Spike tried to avert his eyes as Angel sat up and stretched his sleek body, yet still somehow managed to watch the full movement in fascination as muscles rippled over the powerful body, extending, bunching and relaxing. That damned word would not be laid to rest. Lovers? He wondered which alternate reality the Predictor thought it was in… this in turn caused him to wonder if there was some obscure world where such a situation could exist. It was almost unimaginable… yet his brain did its best to visualize it. He groaned softly. Bloody hell! What had he been distracting himself with? Oh yeah. New name.

Angel wandered into the bathroom. He could hear Spike testing out his name.

"The name's Ghost. I'm Ghost. Ghost. The Ghost... Spike and Angel. Angel and Spike. Spike. And. Angel. Oh sod it."

It made him smile, until he heard the sound of their names aligned together, causing his mind to turn over the problem again. Did he really want this thing with Spike? Angel wasn't altogether sure and maybe that was why he balked at envisaging anything more. The desire for his childe had been a pure Angelus trait. Yet it was Angel who needed the connection. He had told Spike that he was turning to stone and it was true. He needed something to bring him back **to **life. And after all, there was the beginnings of affection between them. He'd seen it briefly shining within Spike and felt it flaring in his own dead heart.

Ok. He'd approach it logically. He began listing advantages and disadvantages and weighing them up in his head.

With Spike there wouldn't be the depth of feeling he'd shared with Buffy, so there would be no chance of a moment of perfect happiness, which had to be a pro. Then there was Spike himself. His approach to sex seemed as casual as lighting up a cigarette, so at least he wouldn't cling and make some big deal out of what would be essentially nothing more than physical release.

The major difficulty would be overcoming Spike's distaste, which seemed to have no basis in any sort of homophobic feeling, but instead was pinpointed into an Angel-focused aversion. A pout formed on his lips. Although the thought didn't ignite the rage that Angelus used to feel, he still felt affronted by Spike's rejection. Buffy had thought he was desirable and worth loving… then again she had been very young and Spike kind of knew him better. Huh. He could count on one hand the number of people who had loved him. And still have a couple of fingers tospare.

He let the hot water remove the sting of self-pity from his eyes as he realised that even if he did decide on Spike, he was pretty sure that his childe would have something to say on the subject, probably starting with 'no', and ending with 'frigging way'. He composed himself, pulled on a pair of sweats and emerged, casually towelling his hair.

"Do you need help bathing?"

"I suppose. Can these splints come off yet?"

"I guess. Just try to not bump into anything else. How's the finger?"

Spike tapped it. No pain.

"Mended."

Angel, again, became instantly detached in his role of doctor. Once attention turned to his injuries then awareness of them nagged at Spike and he noticed the discomfort and lingering ache. Regardless of this, he began to wriggle his toes and Angel nodded in approval.

"You want to try standing?"

Spike hauled himself unsteadily to his feet, his face a blank mask of someone refusing to register pain.

Overall, Angel was satisfied with the progress and realised that pretty soon he'd no longer have an excuse to keep Spike. Whatever his decision, he needed to make it before it was too late and his childe disappeared once more.

He felt a hand on his arm. Angel looked up, eyebrows raised in query.

"You know what would help me heal faster?"

Spike was looking at him with a tentative smile, his head cocked to one side.

"What's that?"

"Sire's blood."

Angel looked away and didn't reply.

Spike's face fell and he felt a blinding frustration. He'd honestly believed that they'd moved on, found a new place where they could just be themselves, but the denial implicit in Angel's silence made Spike look at him with doubtful eyes. Had he misread everything? He withdrew his hand and his sense of hurt began to coalesce into defensive anger.

"Frigging hell! It's Sunnydale and the bloody wheelchair all over again."

"No, it's…"

How could he explain?

How could he say that he slept here every night, sometimes rigid with the need to kiss and touch, to feel something? The temptation he found simply in the physical contact was difficult to deny, but blood taking was something else. The penetration of teeth piercing flesh, the cool kiss of lips on his skin as they sealed over the life he offered and the sounds of pleasure as the body hardened on the gorged blood. If he gave in to this request then all choice would be lost. He would be lost.

"For Christ sake, don't brood about it! I get it, ok?"

Spike's whole body was a twanged string, vibrating with suppressed anger.

"No, you don't get it. Not a single damned thing."

"Just go, will you? I'm knackered and I don't want to do this now."

Angel hesitated.

"I'm not rejecting you."

Silence.

He reluctantly left Spike to his various entertainments and spent a long, tiring day chasing dead ends, knowing that he needed to think, but thoughts continually skittered away from the subject, as though the Spike of his imagination were greased with oil, slipping away whenever he tried to reach for him. The analogy seemed strangely appropriate. That's how Spike had always been. Slipping away from his touch. Oh Christ, he was going to lose him; he could feel it in his bones.

oooo

Now that the splints were off, he found everything so much easier.

True, standing was agony, Spike could almost hear the sound of bones grinding together, but he could manage it at a push and was thankful for the little independence it gave him. Particularly valuing the ability to dress and undress himself. Reliance on Angel for such things was too intimate, causing a host of unwanted thoughts to gather and clamour for attention. Although, occasionally he found himself wishing the intimacy were for real and not something forced on to them. This must have been what momentarily confused him, the false intimacy that the situation had built.

Angel paid a brief noon visit

It was ludicrous. The Predictor had set the notion of a possible relationship with Spike in his head, but he had let it breed and multiply. He'd thought about it all morning, and the more he thought the more absurd it became. And the more alluring. He knew his need for connection made him weak.

Then there was Spike, made vulnerable by his soul, his injury, his need for affection. He felt sure that Spike had forgotten what was involved in the giving and taking of blood, after all, he had only ever experienced it that one time, but Angel had shared with his other offspring and well knew its effect. On them and him.

It hadn't mattered in the old days. But here with Spike everything felt precariously balanced. Angel himself was so starved of any other sort of satisfaction that he was afraid of the effect of the demonic sharing. Feared it would shatter the relationship they'd so painstakingly created during the past week. But he didn't know how to express this or how to explain how little self control he really had. So he didn't try.

Instead he asked the mundane questions. How are you? What have you been doing? And received the mechanical replies such questions deserved.

Spike had withdrawn from him again and Angel realised that his refusal to share blood had been a wrecking ball, demolishing the burgeoning trust they had been building. Somehow he had to fix this. He needed the trust and the friendship back.

Angel spent all day and most of the evening at work, leaving Spike feeling aggrieved at how quickly his Sire was trying to disassociate himself. So the 'lovers' thing wasn't getting Broody's vote, which was fine by him, he'd never heard of anything so ridiculous. Yet he couldn't understand why Angel was refusing to help him heal. He knew it wasn't the pure malignancy that motivated Angelus or the automatic response that Angel customarily made towards him. What the hell. He should have learnt his lesson by now, he'd been rejected so many sodding times, from their very first meeting in Sunnydale when the lies had poured forth. But this one, more than any other, left Spike feeling depressed and unwanted. He supposed it was because he used to have the doubtful comfort ofDru. Now he had no one.

He finally heard Angel enter the bedroom and move quietly around the room. He hated being ignored and it annoyed him that Angel seemed to be pretending he wasn't there. He could feel the old petulance clouding his thoughts.

"For pete's sake, will you stop making so much bloody racket and just get into bed?

Angel sighed and clambered in with a heavy heart.

For the first time they slept without touching at all. It was a long night and his sleep was disturbed by the anger thrumming invasively from the figure next to him. He longed to reach out, spoon against the cool body and touch the satin skin. Unwanted thoughts of long gone nights invaded his thoughts and he moved restlessly, trying to turn his thoughts to other topics.

The following day was no better. He couldn't concentrate. The more he attempted to push Spike from his head the more the blonde kept popping up.

He tried to focus on Fred, who was explaining something about viruses, which was when Angel had his stunningly simple idea. His whole mood lifted and he could have kissed Fred and spun her around the room. Instead he smiled and nodded, whilst running through how this idea would work in practice.

His plan to rid himself of his growing obsession was based on the theory of inoculation, a small dose to immunise himself from the full blown disease. Allow himself a taste of Spike's body. Reach out and touch, become accustomed to him, until it became a commonplace thing, thereby banishing the shade of Spike that was haunting him every second of the day.

Spike was wearing a discontented pout and watching an old film with blank disinterest. His eyes carefully avoided Angel.

"Hey, Spike."

"Poof."

It was a greeting of sorts and more than he'd hoped for.

"Ok?"

"Uh huh."

"Want some blood?"

Spike looked at him as though trying to suss if he was taking the piss and Angel suddenly realised what he'd said and a look of anguished contrition crossed his face. Jeez, even when he was trying, he still managed to get it so wrong.

"I mean heated up…"

Spike acknowledged the genuine mistake with a small nod.

"Got some." He raised his mug in explanation.

But Angel was still dwelling on the offer of blood….

This could solve a problem of how to lure Spike into a more intimate situation. He hadn't been looking forward to having a discussion with him. Jeez, how uncomfortable would that conversation be? He could just envisage it now. 'Spike, I think we should make-out to help rid me of my obsession with you…" Derision would be the best he could hope for.

No, this would work much better. Entice Spike with his blood and then lay back and enjoy the consequences.

He heated up a bag of pigs' blood for himself and then flopped down next to Spike, trying to look as though they were perfectly comfortable together.

"You're right. My blood would help you heal faster. We'll do it. This evening. Ok?"

Spike stilled, but only said; "Don't put yourself out on my account."

"Yes, on your account. I want to do it for you."

Well… that wasn't quite true. He felt like a hypocrite, knowing that if it hadn't been for his plan he wouldn't have given in to Spike's request. He could still remember how it felt to have a childe suckling upon his skin, draining his essence and moaning in need. Oh God! He couldn't exist like this much longer. His thoughts were wild-eyed horses, running free and galloping roughshod over all else. He refused to be obsessed by his Childe. Angel gave a slow blink and in the brief darkness gathered back the reins of control.

Ok. Inoculation. It seemed like his only hope.

Neither said another word but Spike's eyes followed him as he left.

He was left pondering similar ideas that had already occurred to Angel. As they'd sat together and Angel announced his agreement, Spike had suddenly thought about the physical act of turning towards his Sire and placing his mouth on smooth skin. Memories flooded back. The taste of powerful blood exploding through his body, sending his senses spiralling into another plane. It was need and ecstasy, oblivion and life… it was orgasmic.

All his pouting and petulance and now he understood Angel's initial refusal, which, in turn, led him to consider the meaning of this new capitulation. Had Angel changed his mind about the 'lovers' thing? It was difficult to believe and gave him a lot to consider during that afternoon. He couldn't escape the conclusion that Angel was finally reaching for him after all these years. A small bubble of happiness began to rise inside.

oooo

This wasn't going to be easy.

Angel had showered, hovered uncertainly, procrastinated some more and then decided to seize the day. Or the night. He considered for a second before slipping his boxers back on and finally exiting the steamy haven of the bathroom.

He lay nervously on his side of the bed, under his own set of covers, casting covert looks across to Spike, whose lower lip was stuck out as he gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. Angel had an urge to reach out and stroke a finger across the full flesh, gently wriggle the tip inside, letting it envelop him in moist warmth, watching as Spike opened up for him, sucking his finger down and that pout slowly closing around his length. God he was so desperate for release that even this thought was erotic.

"You want to do it now?"

Spike kept his face blank. This didn't sound very lover-like to him. Maybe the Poof was just out of practise. He was feeling a little edgy himself and wished Angel would talk to him, admit the result of the Predictor. Tell him how he wanted to play this, because Spike was lost in this uncharted territory. Not a good feeling, it made him angsty and irritable.

"Suppose so."

There was something in Spike's attitude. He seemed withdrawn, which was weird, considering he'd got his way and was about to receive the blood he wanted. Angel tried to think of a way to relax them both.

"Can I get under the covers and just hold you?"

"Dunno, can you?"

He didn't know how to take that, but the obvious hostility kept him in his normal place.

"Well if it's gonna stop you tossing and sighing then just get under the bloody covers. And mind my leg. Tosser." Nerves made Spike sound harsher than he meant to be.

The shrewish behaviour had begun to make Angel feel well and truly inoculated and he started to think that maybe there was no need to go through with this after all. But he'd promised. He couldn't back out now. Still, this was so fricking awkward.

"So. Uh. Where do you want to drink from?"

This wasn't right, it felt clinical and passionless. But Spike couldn't refuse his Sire's blood.

He considered the major arteries: aortic, carotid, radial, femoral. Instead he reached out a finger and traced along the shoulder where the axillary lay, the source of the enticing scent that had comforted him through all those innumerable nights.

"Here."

Angel nodded and watched with barely contained anticipation as his childe nuzzled in. It felt so familiar and yet so new.

He wrapped Spike in his arms, cradling him. It was so good to hold him again. He could feel Spike changing into game face; hard demon bones were shifting against his skin, calling to Angel's own demon and causing it to stir in response.

And then the twin pricks as Spike unerringly found his mark.

Angel gave a small hitch of pleasure as Spike began to make small noises of contentment. It seemed different to anything he'd shared before. Gentler. He moved a hand, giving in to the desire to run his fingers through incredibly soft hair.

The first surge of blood hit the roof of Spike's mouth and he was lost to the sensation that bloomed through his body. He could have keened in delight. Here was the connection he'd been searching for, under his nose all this time. It sparkled through him like multicoloured magic from a Disney wand, beautiful and life affirming. It was invigorating and soothing. The ultimate comfort, it was everything he'd never even realised he'd missed. At the same time it was more than comfort, it fizzled and sparked through his body and sent his awareness soaring.

The experience was more powerful than he could ever remember. He was drowning in the intensity.

It made him sensitive to Angel. Everywhere they touched, blood crawled to the surface of his body, every cell yearning towards each point of contact with his Sire. He tried to get closer, as though he belonged somewhere under Angel's skin and was trying to reach that place again.

As Spike wrapped himself around his Sire and hung on like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline, so Angel slowly surrendered to the heat of the other vampire's need and to the sensation of knowing that at this moment all Spike's desires met in him, were focused on him. He pulled Spike closer, urging him on with encouraging noises and felt the tug of blood being pulled through his body.

Blood moved again and circulated. He had a pulse that beat to the rhythmic suckling and in this demonic act he briefly found the cadence of humanity and life that filled his body like a rising symphony. He admitted to affection for this childe who could produce such feelings. His hand became lost in silky blonde strands.

Spike responded to the soothing touch by relaxing his death-like grip and moving one hand to caress his Sire's chest, hovering in amazement as he felt blood flowing through the long dead heart.

It made Angel feel as though he was with a lover and effervescent happiness bubbled through him. He knew he must be wearing an inane smile on his face, but he couldn't help it. His demon was staking his claim and this childe was the land where it raised its flag and declared ownership. It was damned near perfect…

The thought hit him like a two tonne truck. This was happiness and ecstasy. This was Angelus territory.

"Stop! Spike, no more!"

But his childe was consumed by the blood, cocooned in his own world where all that mattered was the pleasure in joining once more with his Sire.

Angel pushed frantically at the blonde head and finally managed to dislodge him. Spike fell away, confused and disorientated. Golden eyes blinking up at his Sire. Slowly the face melted back to humanity.

"Sire?"

The plaintive question nearly brought tears to Angel's eyes.

"I can't do this with you."

"Oh."

If Spike had been confused before, now he was absolutely blank with incomprehension.

"I…"

"What is this, Angel? I mean really, I want to know."

"I'm sorry. I was afraid of this…. It's the blood. I know it's not real."

"Oh."

Spike felt naked without a covering of words but his normal lexicon deserted him. Angel despised him so much that he couldn't even complete this act that came naturally to most sires. Yet despite this they were still lying tangled together, fingers resting intimately on each other and bodies hard.

Mouth and body were speaking words that argued and conflicted. He decided to listen to Angel's body and not the hurtful, tearing words.

"Angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Despite what I say, I don't seduce everyone who crosses my path."

"So you're saying what? You're pure and chaste?"

Angel eyed him in disbelief.

"Well, not exactly. I'm just saying I'm not very good at casual. Well, besides Harmony."

"Ok. Why are you telling me this?"

"You realise that every inch of the front of your body is plastered to mine?"

"God, yes." He was very much aware of it. The potent blood had worked its magic on them both.

"Every inch?" Spike queried as his dark brows rose.

Angel felt almost delirious with need. He was sure it must have been the blood that caused the happiness. How could he resist the feeling of life pulsing through him? He felt certain that he wouldn't find perfect happiness with Spike if they confined it to a purely physical release.

Words fell from his mouth, untruths and other sounds without meaning.

"Shhh. We won't do anything. Just need to hold you. This will work. I'm inoculating myself."

Spike took this supposed turn in the conversation fairly adeptly, considering. Sooner or later he was convinced that this would lead somewhere.

"Inoculating? Against what? Are you ill, Pet?"

He had it so firmly fixed in his head that Angel didn't and never had found him physically attractive that the truth didn't even come close to surfacing in his head.

"I think I am. Feverish. Fred was wrong, this vaccine isn't working. It's still all about you."

"Me? What do you need, Sire? What can I do for you?"

Angel let out a groan, thinking of everything Spike could do for him.

Spike was becoming seriously worried at the groaning and pained expression.

"Do you want some of my painkillers?"

"Are you really so innocent?"

His hips moved slightly against Spike. God! He so needed to move.

"Ah…"

"Even that's cute. So knowing and yet so downright innocent."

Spike looked across at him. So close to what he wanted and yet so far. He felt lonely. He needed so much, could he settle for so little? With anyone else maybe he could, but with Angel…? Then Angel moved again. It made Spike shiver, and all those firmly repressed desires were lying like embers in his brain, burning their way through his body. Part of Spike wanted this so badly. He couldn't control his response to Angel and his own body began to twitch into life. As blood flowed south, commonsense flowed out.

He knew that Angel was staring at his mouth and licked his lips nervously. Angel's eyes turned black. Spike began to breathe, shocked by the searing heat that burned between them.

Angel watched through half closed eyes. When the pink tongue swiped across soft lips, his whole body reacted, every nerve ending jolted to life. He gave into his fantasy, reached out with his thick forefinger and followed the path that the tongue had taken, touching pouting lip, that soft swell of flesh.

"When you meant inoculation, you were talking about me weren't you?"

"Hush." Angel laid his finger over the lips. "Yeah, I guess I meant you. But its ok. This means nothing, Spike. It's just mutual release, physical satisfaction. We both need it. I need it. I need to touch and be touched. I need someone that I won't lose my soul in. There's only you."

Angel laid himself out and made himself vulnerable as he never had before; he reached out and once more gently smoothed Spike's hair. He didn't notice the effect his thoughtless words had on his childe. Until his hand was angrily shaken off.

"Hey. Cheers Mate. Thrilled to know that I'm nothing but a disease and incredibly flattered as I am to learn that you want me cus I'm the only one available to you, the answer strangely enough is 'eff off and die'."

Spike's eyes were sparking with fury. Angel hadn't wanted him. Hadn't been reaching for him. He was just bloody convenient.

"You don't give a damn do you? A mouthful of Sire's blood and you think you've got yourself an frigging easy lay!"

This was so close to the truth that Angel defended by attacking and unleashing his own anger.

"You're kidding me? There is nothing easy about you. What did you expect? Romance and flowers? It's never been like that between us."

"You forget. There has never been anything between us."

"I guess I have a better memory than you. I remember when we first met."

"I remember Angelus and I remember a soulless William. It was never you and me."

Angel considered this.

"Yeah. I guess you're right. We just don't have the same spark they did. You're here but it was never really about you. I'm sorry. Forget this ever happened."

He knew as soon as he said it that he would regret these words. He should have just told Spike how he felt. He would. He'd just be honest.

"Spike…"

"It's ok. Already forgotten. Go to sleep, Peaches."

Angel regarded the obstinate back and miserable and disheartened, he gave up.

oooo

They were assiduously normal to each other that, so much so, they could almost hear their words creaking under the strain.

Spike decided his recuperation had dragged on long enough. He couldn't stay in this room anymore. It was going to drive him mental.

"I thought I'd come down today. Feeling better and all that."

So Spike was as good as his word and all was forgotten, but Angel was feeling guilty. He hadn't behaved well and he wanted to make up for it now. Show Spike that he could also let the disastrous evening fade into memory. He turned his mind to do reasonable and mature.

"Of course. You're a valuable member of the team."

Spike stared at him, waiting for the punch line but Angel just carried on dressing.

"Ok? I'll see you later."

Spike took his time. He also felt a bit sheepish; he'd overreacted and behaved like a hysterical virgin. Angel was right; they had both become carried away by the blood, that's all it was. Still, he could have had his Sire for one night. One perfect night, and he'd let stupid pride get in the way. He had an awful feeling he was turning back into William, which was never gonna happen. He painted his nails black and pulled on his leather coat. Well the blood had been good for one thing. His bones had finished their re-growth and he could walk down to the offices.

"Yo, man. Should you be up? I know vamps heal quickly but that was a nasty shot you took."

"It's either drag myself down here or go insane with boredom. Close call but I've done insanity and it ain't all its cracked up to be. So here I am."

"Ah, Spike. Welcome back. It's good to see you've mended. You're just in time. Angel is calling a meeting, so you may as well join us."

They wandered in together and it was like going back a week in time. Angel ignored him and he was left feeling kind of out of place.

Angel looked gravely at the gathered group and then waved a letter at them.

"I've just been given notice that an inspector is arriving tomorrow."

"Why, we got vermin?" Gunn eyed the floor suspiciously.

"This is Wolfram & Hart, cockroaches and rats at every desk, or hadn't you noticed" Spike asked, raising one eyebrow mockingly.

"That would be an insult to vermin - they're regular cutie-pies compared to the employees you've made me read."

"Company inspector," Angel cut through their backchat, "not sanitation inspector."

"Inspector? Dear lord. This isn't in any way related to their audits, is it?" Wesley asked, apprehension showing on his face.

"It's similar but they're not carried out by the Senior Partners and they're arranged on ad hoc basis, with little or no warning. The penalties aren't quite as far-reaching as the audits."

"What does that mean? What penalties?" Fred frowned.

Spike settled back into his accustomed role.

"Yeah, what's got Percy so agitated? What happened at the last audit?"

"Let's just say that everyone was keeping a tight hold of their heads to stop them rolling." Gunn explained.

"As I was saying," Angel continued pointedly, "inspection isn't quite so broad in its remit. It's the heads of departments who are held responsible for the Company so we personally are being investigated. We could lose our budgets or our jobs, but decapitation is highly unlikely. I mean none of us are guilty of fraud, corruption or gross negligence." He gave a small, reassuring smile.

Shocked silence greeted his upbeat assessment.

"On the upside, if we do well our branch of Wolfram & Hart could stand to gain a windfall."

"This is a big deal, Angel."

"If it involves my head then it's a damned big deal!" Gunn clarified.

"What do we have to do toprepare?" Fred asked.

"We haven't got much time, but he's looking for effective and efficient working. All you can really do is to ensure files and paperwork are in order, your procedures are up-to-date, your staff are aware of what's happening and everything runs as smoothly and efficiently as possible."

"Do we know anything about the inspector?"

"Human. He can detect truth and lies, it wasn't made clear, but I don't believe he is a mind reader. My advice? Don't upset him. These inspectors aren't known for their patience, so I want you all bending over backwards for him."

They all nodded their agreement.

"So what do you want me to do?" Spike asked.

"You? Don't do anything. Just don't get in his way. In fact I don't want you talking to him, or meeting with him or…just stay out of his way, Spike."

So that was the end of their short lived bonhomie. Peaches had repaid the perceived debt of his life with some shiny technological baubles, medical attention and a splash of blood. Ok. He should have guessed how it would be but still he was surprised by the depth of his disappointment and the speed with which things once again returned to normal. Frigging hell, he'd only been on his feet a few hours and suddenly here they were again.

"So much for being a valuable team member then, Peaches."

Angel noticed his pout but really, this was too important for him to pander to Spike. Despite his upbeat assessment this was life or death and he had some serious worries about which way the verdict would go. He couldn't afford distractions, and Spike got him so that he could hardly think straight. Instead he simply tamped down on all his emotion. Shut it away and locked the box. He'd make up for it later.

"He'll probably want to talk to us each individually. But nothing to worry about…"

Wolfram & Hart became a veritable hive of activity.

Angel spent the day with Harmony sorting through paperwork. He was pleasantly surprised, her filing system actually made sense. He'd been expecting more of a Cordelia-like logic. The others, meanwhile, saw to their own departments. Except for Spike, who was beginning to feel isolated amidst all the bustle. Everyone was absorbed. Even the cleaners had no time for their usual poker game in one of the store cupboards. Willing to lend a hand but he was nothing but an irrelevant spare wheel. When he left no one even noticed. Angel didn't even notice.

He went up to the penthouse and began kicking through all the meaningless stuff that Angel had bought him. It had been fun but it was probably time to head back to his own apartment anyway. After all, he had no reason to stay. He found a bag and began disconsolately gathering up his things and stuffing them in. Peaches would be pleased. The room looked neat and minimalist without his clutter.

"Spike? What are you doing?" A note of panic entered his voice.

It was obvious what he was doing; all his clothes and cds had been swept up. Anything small enough to be fitted in his bag had been taken. After all, they were payment for a debt he was owed. He eyed the enormous TV regretfully. Never mind, it probably wouldn't look right in his tiny apartment.

"Thought I may as well go."

"Where? Why? Is it because of what I said earlier? I only meant…"

"You meant for me to stay in your room and not embarrass you."

"No. Well, yeah. But you don't have to go. Supposing you need painkillers in the night?"

"Haven't needed them for a while. I'm healed, Pet."

Angel couldn't think of what to say. It never occurred to him to simply ask Spike to stay. Instead he shrugged.

"Whatever you want. As usual."

Spike walked past him, hesitated, and glanced back. Why wouldn't Angel just trust him? How many times did he have to prove himself?

"I'll piss off and stay out of your road for a few days."

"Fine."

Spike sighed. Angel could be so perceptive when it came to other people and so clueless when it came to his own childe. He slung the bag over his shoulder and left.

Angel returned to work cursing the inspector back to the hell he came form.

His temper grew progressively worse. After he'd reduced several grown men to tears, Wesley was moved to intervene, suggesting that there was nothing more they could realistically do and perhaps it was time to call it a night.

"Why don't you go up and spend some time with Spike. Frankly, if you're looking for a fight, at least pick on someone who's your equal and not your underling."

Privately, he thought Spike was the only onewho could handle Angel when he was in one of these moods. The only one who had no fear of him.

The vampire was about to unleash his petulance onto Wesley, when he saw Fred hovering in the background, nervous but determined to intervene on Wesley's behalf. So instead he let the aggression slip away and reined in his temper.

"Sorry, this damned inspection. I guess it's got me jumpy."

"It's understandable. You need to take some time out."

Fred stepped forward.

"Wesley's right, go see Spike. He'll be lonely and naturally feeling a little left out, y'all know how he gets."

"Spike decided to return to his own apartment." Angel told them curtly.

Neither said a word but both now understood the source of his sudden moodiness.

He headed to the elevator. It opened into a spotless room. He hadn't seen it looking like this since before Spike's arrival. He took a deep breath and relaxed, it felt like his space again.

Except the silence was almost spooky. No music, no TV, no Spike. He walked into his pristine bedroom, removed his clothes and was about to put them in the linen basket, then changed his mind and dropped them on the floor. But to no avail. They weren't making the statement he was looking for. Instead the crumpled pile just lay there, looking sadly out of place. He gave it a kick, sighed, gathered them up and then dumped them in with the rest of his dirty washing.

He made his way to the bathroom. Glancing back he still felt unsettled and hovered uncertainly. He'd never realised how sterile the room was. He ran his fingers distractedly through his hair and then turned the shower to hot; hoping the scalding water would melt away his tension. It must be anxiety about the coming inspection. At least he no longer had the idiot here, distracting him with inane chatter and absurd questions.

He soaped his body, enjoying the feel of shower warmed flesh and decided it was the touch of another person he would miss more than anything. Despite his best intentions, his thoughts turned to Spike and how much he'd enjoyed holding him night after night, waking up to actually feel another person underneath his hands. Spike himself was extraordinarily tactile; surely he too would miss touching someone else…would miss touching him? Perhaps he should have suggested that Spike stay for a while - it would have been the generous thing to do. But after last night's mistake, maybe it wasn't wise.

Maybe this sleeping together had been a mistake, getting to know the intimate movements and reactions of each others bodies had raised expectations, amongst other things. He thought about everything sensibly. He was sure it couldn't be Spike in particular he was attracted to. It was just that he was the only one available. He was slowly convincing himself. Despite appreciating the much improved physique, Angel could honestly say that the fact that it was Spike was irrelevant. It was just a body he could use without fear of consequences. It was need, pure and simple. He could have focused that need on anyone but Spike had been the one here. Lying in his bed. Vulnerable and needy.

However, intellectually speaking, Angel had to admit that he did find that body interesting - demons weren't supposed to be able to change. Clearly a myth, as both he and Spike could testify.

He should have asked Spike to pose for him so that he could analyse these changes, and wished he had thought to try to capture that self-contained power and energy. Maybe not charcoal, the medium was too impermanent and insubstantial for those strong body lines. He wondered if he could have sculpted it. He'd never been inspired to try chipping an image from marble or stone, but the more he thought about it the more attracted he became to the idea.

The idea of hewing Spike's shape out of solid rock appealed to him; running a sharpened chisel carefully over delineated muscle, carving out the sinews of his arms and the ripples of his abdomen. Angel could almost feel it taking shape under his hands, imagining the body emerging from the solidity of rock, revealing the sharp lines of his face, chiselling the hollows of his cheeks, gently smoothing the expanse of chest and the taut stomach, polishing the body to a smooth sheen with slow circular movements.

Angel examined his badly straying thoughts in disbelief. Oh jeez! This wasn't a dispassionate interest in Spike's changed physique. He looked down at his own body and groaned, only partly in dismay. He couldn't deny it. He wanted Spike and he was ready to admit that no one else would do. He shook his head miserably because last night he'd well and truly messed up, and today he'd chased him away.

He wasn't inoculated at all. He was addicted. Addicted to Spike.

Stepping out of the shower and into his empty bed, he wondered if Spike was managing to sleep ok without anyone to hold him close.

17


	5. Part 5

Summary: The W&H inspector insists on meeting Spike, and causes turmoil for Angel

Warning: m/m pairing, strong language

Feedback: Please let me know what you think…

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to Stars for her fantastic support, the beta and the absolutely amazing turnaround time, cheers to luba for the read through and lovely comments. And of course :hugs: to the people reading and liking

**The Relevance of Spike**

**Part 5**

Anticipation had them all on edge.

"Did you see him?" Gunn asked.

"A glimpse." Fred answered. "Suit, dark glasses, briefcase. Looked human. Harmony showed him straight into Angel'soffice. He buzzed through and asked her to set up an office for his use over the next few days. I'm scheduled for 10 o'clock."

"We'd better be getting back." Wesley said with a quick glance at his watch.

"Yeah. Let us know how it goes, I'm booked in for his 2 o' clock."

Fred nodded.

"And good luck, girl."

"Thanks…d'ya think I need it?"

"No, no. Of course not." Wesley reassured. "I'm sure everything will be fine. Just routine."

Fred returned a weak, uncertain smile, a mere ghost of her normal wide grin.

On cue, her phone rang.

"Hey Fred. Angel will see you now."

She smoothed down her skirt and wished her nerves could be smoothed away as easily.

She was met by Harmony, who gave her a friendly smile.

"I'd tear your throat out to take your place for the next two hours." She whispered before opening the door and announcing her to the occupants.

Feeling a little flustered by this casual remark but determined to be business-like. She strode forward and thrust her hand out towards the first person she saw. As she raised her eyes she understood what Harmony had meant, she found herself looking at the most absurdly beautiful man she had seen, either inside or outside the pages of the glossies.

"Ah, Ms Burkle. I'm charmed to meet you."

His voice was smooth velvet with the depth and resonance that sent vibrations through her. She managed a smile, attempting to keep a firm grasp of her last sense by looking anywhere except him. The only thing that could possibly add to her confusion was the sudden crashing thought that this man could maybe read her mind.

"Winifred this is Mr Mede, he is heading the inspection. He's anxious to get down to work, so if you'd like to take him across to the Science Department? Mr Mede, I'll leave you in Ms Burkle's capable hands."

Fred hadn't moved. She'd weakened and looked back at the man and now had the humiliating experience of seeing her last sense scamper away. Angel noticed her ensnared rabbit appearance.

"Ms Burkle?" He prompted, giving a helpless grin to his visitor, whilst still managing to hiss out of the corner of his mouth "Fred!"

"Uh? Oh! Of Course. If you'd care to follow me?"

"I'd be delighted, Fred. May I call you Fred?"

Angel caught a glimpse of her blush and her wide smile.

"Please, I insist."

His hackles were rising, he could no longer bear to listen to Fred's puppy-like eagerness and shut the door firmly.

He'd disliked the man on sight, with his tawny skin and dark hair, so sure of his own attractions and so willing to use them. At least, he'd had the grace to smile in acknowledgement when he realised that Angel was unmoved and unfazed by his charms.

The whole encounter had been odd, although Angel found it hard to say why. He'd clearly been remarkably informed about their cases, which was only to be expected, but Angel couldn't help feeling he had been probing for something in particular.

He'd wanted to know about the huge outgoings near the beginning of their tenure.

Angel cross-referenced the dates and pinpointed it as the Pavayne episode. However, this then turned into one of his main avenues of interest. How they had first become aware of the matter, why hadn't it been noticed previously, what had been the options, had cost been considered, had best value standards been adhered to?

Angel could feel a headache coming on as question followed question.

He'd explained that Pavayne had been killing people and sending them to hell in his stead and that this had come to light when one of the ghost's began to manifest, fought back and asked for their help. Spike had been the ghost. Angel was reluctant to bring him into it, but inevitably a direct question from the inspector revealed his name, which had brought on another whole line of interrogation that Angel had desperately tried to avoid. The interview ended when Mr Mede was finally satisfied that he'd learnt all he could.

And now he was with Fred. Poor, innocent, gullible Fred.

At least she too had an instinct for protecting Spike. Suddenly Angel realised what it was that had struck him as odd – the man's reaction when Spike had been mentioned and the distinct feeling that Spike needed protecting from this man. For the first time he felt genuinely grateful that his boy had left.

oooo

Fred eventually emerged from her interview and joined Gunn, Wesley and Lorne for lunch.

"So how did it go? You're still in one piece, which has to be good."

"You know." She shrugged slightly. "It seemed to go ok. He was very interested in the science we used on Pavayne and was impressed at the way we worked closely with your department." She said with a look to Wesley.

"So he's just a normal guy? Not a man-eating ogre at all?"

Wesley observed a slight blush.

"Well…I wouldn't call him normal. He looks…"

"Go on, girl! Don't keep us in suspense. Surely it's nothing we haven't seen before? Tails, horns, scales, we've seen them all."

"Let's just say his real name is Ganymede and it's no coincidence."

Wesley understood. Gunn searched his upgraded knowledge and found the reference. Only Lorne looked a little confused.

"A good looking young man?" Wesley asked.

"Good looking?" Fred shook her head. "He's drop dead, knock your eyeballs out, spin ya head around, stunning!"

"Women!" Gunn rolled his eyes.

"I'm telling you! He knocked me absolutely speechless." She told them earnestly.

"Really?" Lorne looked mightily impressed. "That takes some doing, Fredikins."

"Is it real?" Wesley wondered. "Perhaps that's part of his magic, maybe he uses it to get to us, soften us up?"

"It'll take more than a pretty man to soften me up." Gunn declared, thought about the statement, considered rephrasing it but decided best to leave well alone.

"He asked a ton of questions about Spike. What sort of work he does, is he on the payroll, is he a contractor, what is his relationship to everyone here."

"I guess he's looking for irregularities and Spike is a little irregular." Wesley replied after some consideration.

"Uh huh. There was definite dog on a scent feeling."

"The boss won't be too happy about that."

No one replied because that was a certainty and as lunch ended it was Gunn's turn.

Again a call came through and this time Gunn was shown into Angel's office. He was curious to meet the man who had stunned Fred into silence. The man turned and Gunn's jaw fell open. Angel rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Charles, this is Mr Mede, Mr Mede allow me to introduce you to Charles Gunn."

"Your reputation precedes you Mr Gunn, it's a pleasure to meet you at last."

"Uh huh. I mean thanks. It's a real pleasure to meet you, too. And Gunn will do just fine." He replied with a wide smile.

They retreated from the office and Angel was aware of a deep disappointment in Gunn. He'd hoped that he, at least, would have managed not to succumb to that too perfect, totally unmanly beauty. He wished Spike was here to give some perspective. He was never taken in by surface appearance. Maybe when all this was over he'd invite Spike back.

Then it occurred to him that Spike had left of his own free will and maybe wouldn't want to come back. It would be too humiliating to ask and be refused. Again. He buried himself back into work, anything to keep him from the roiling thoughts that came surfacing.

At 4 o' clock Mr Mede was shown back in.

He gave his pleasant, easy smile.

"So far, I've been impressed with the efficiency and dedication of your staff. Tomorrow I will meet with Mr Wyndham Price and Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan. But I would like my first meeting of the day to be with William the Bloody, currently known as Spike."

Angel froze.

"I'm sorry that would be impossible."

The pleasant smile never faltered.

"I would be most disappointed and I must say he is crucial to my inspection."

Angel tried to match the man's agreeable demeanour, which was kind of difficult when he wanted to rip the heart painfully from the guy's body.

"My apologies, I would, of course, do anything to avoid disappointing you but he is not a member of Wolfram & Hart staff."

"And yet he frequently works for you?"

"Occasionally he joins us, but there's no formal contract and I cannot insist on his attendance."

"Yet he has been involved in some key decisions and I put it to you that it is therefore of vital importance that I speak to him. If you would request his attendance, I would be most grateful and will naturally reflect your co-operation in my report. If you refuse then that too will be fully reflected in my report. Do you understand me?"

Angel's lips tightened in annoyance, he wasn't used to being bullied in such an obvious manner.

"I understand completely."

"Then I will schedule Spike for 9 o' clock."

"I can only request his attendance, I can't guarantee…"

"Nine o' clock, Mr Angel."

With that he left and Angel was left seething with rage. When he finally felt that he could say something other than a curse he called a meeting.

He began by passing on the compliments to Fred and Gunn regarding their efficiency and dedication before getting to the grist of it, explaining that somehow this had become about Spike.

"I guess they've met before." Angel concluded.

"Spike does have the habit of making some bad enemies." Wesley commented and Angel nodded. Spike had been at the back of the queue when they'd been handing out tact.

"He's also got some good friends." Fred said with some determination. "There's no getting him out of this meeting is there?"

"Not if we want a favourable report."

"Well, at least we can do all in our power to ensure their meeting place is secure."

"I could get a no violence spell put around a room here." Lorne suggested.

"I'll see about setting up a magic dampening area so that he can't be affected by enchantments."

"That sounds good. You two get it organised and meanwhile, I'll call Spike and let him know the situation."

Well he tried to call. Unfortunately there was no reply.

Cursing Spike for never been there when needed, he ended up visiting his apartment. As he approached the door he noticed that his stomach had crazy butterflies trapped inside… and every single one was anticipating the sight of that sharp face. He took a breath to see if it calmed the inhabitants of his stomach but it seemed they thrived on oxygen. He ignored them and knocked on the solid, scruffy door…. No answer. He banged harder, causing a neighbour to poke out her head.

"If you're looking for the young man who lives there, he's not in, Deary. He left as soon as it got dark."

"Oh. Do you know where he went?"

"No, but if it's a repeat of last night, he won't be in until late and won't be in a fit state to see anyone then anyway. He was singing!" She sounded outraged.

Uh huh. That was the Spike he knew and lov…. He quickly turned to the neighbour and smiled engagingly.

"Oh, I see. Thanks."

So, Spike had gone out to get pissed. And wasn't that typical? Just when he was needed sober…though to be fair he had been told that he wouldn't be needed and wouldn't be welcome. Angel felt a surge of customary guilt and went off to search the nearby bars.

He hated walking into bars by himself. As a private investigator he'd accepted the necessity, but never really got used to the way he was hit upon whenever he walked in. The annoyance, the hint of desperation when he told them he wasn't interested. He felt sorry for them, like him, they just wanted connection and for some reason they thought they'd find it in their local bar, pouncing eagerly on any stranger that came in. Maybe not any stranger, after all looks counted for something in this game.

A thought occurred to him, spurring him quickly on to the next bar. How would they react to Spike's entrance? So beautiful and so lonely, would anyone be able to resist his sadness and vulnerability? More to the point would he be able to resist the call of companionship? He began to wonder who had held Spike last night. Who had been warding off loneliness whilst he slept? He cursed himself for a fool and hurried on to the next place.

He finally spotted a bleached head. His dramatic looks stood out like a beacon in the crowd. He was standing at the bar talking to a girl.

"Spike?"

"Oh, it's you. Piss off, Peaches." He turned back to his conversation.

"I really need to speak to you."

Spike was swaying slightly and Angel realised he was more drunk than he'd initially thought.

"Come on, Spike. I'll take you home."

"Leave me alone. Can't you see that I'm talking to a lady?"

The lady in question had clasped his hand and was staring deep into his eyes, making the sort of offers that he knew Spike couldn't refuse.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but he's already taken."

"Really?" She looked around with coolly amused eyes, saying, "Because I don't see her, so I think that kinda makes him mine."

"What are you talking about, wanker? I ain't got no-one."

"Whose bed were you in two nights ago, Spike?"

"Yours, of course." He realised what he'd said and turned to the girl. "But…"

"See." Angel explained apologetically. "Already taken."

The girl's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you home." He said, smiling tenderly at Spike.

The girl left with a huff of annoyance, she might have guessed with that accent. It was so not fair.

"What the hell?"

"I need you and I need you sober."

"Oh Christ, we're not back to that again. I told you two nights ago..."

"Hush childe. This is important. Will you remember what I'm saying in the morning?"

"Of course I will. There are three stages to drunkenness and I haven't even reached the first one."

"Really? What… Never mind." He slung one of Spike's arms over his shoulder and began to walk him home.

"I need you in the office at 9 o' clock tomorrow."

"Why? What do you want with me, Angel? Gonna invite me to drink blood and tell I'm diseased?"

"I didn't say you were diseased, I said…"

He had to admit that what he actually said sounded no better and if he wanted Spike to attend the meeting it was probably best left well alone.

"It's work, Spike, and it's very important that you turn up."

"Huh. Now birdie's singing a different tune. What about all that 'just stay out of the way crap'?"

"The Inspector has noticed how closely you're involved with the Company and he'd like to talk to you."

"Did you explain that I couldn't possibly? That Daddy has forbidden me to meet or talk or…"

"I'm sorry, ok Spike. I was wrong and I'm sorry. Now please, will you meet him?"

"It's a bit early in the morning, mate."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I'm dragging you away from the alcohol."

"That was your only reason?"

"Of course."

Spike suddenly began to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Sweetheart! Manly endearments don't exactly roll smoothly from your tongue, luv."

"No, I guess they don't."

They finally reached his apartment.

"Christ I'm tired. What were yer saying again? Something about a meeting?"

"You said you'd remember." Angel said reproachfully.

"I will. I do. A meeting. See I remember it all." He yawned again.

Angel started picking up his clothes and grabbed a handful of cds putting them all back into the half unpacked bag.

"Oy. What yer doing?"

"You're coming back to stay with me."

"No, I'm bloody not." His denial was vehement.

"Spike. Please will you come back and stay with me? At least for tonight? This meeting is important, you mustn't miss it."

Spike considered him for a second and then shrugged.

"Ok. But remember, you owe me a big time favour for this. And be damned sure, I will collect."

Angel nodded and hustled him out the door before Spike could renege on their agreement.

He drove back to the penthouse, smiling at Spike who was lightly dozing next to him. That night he slept deeply, dreaming pleasant dreams and awoke to find they were true. He had his arms wrapped around Spike once more. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of peace and contentment.

He'd fallen back to sleep and awoke with a jolt. Damnation!

"Spike, get up! Shower! We've got fifteen minutes."

He flew in and out of the water. Spike hadn't moved and all feeling of peace and contentment had evaporated. He pulled the covers away, lifted Spike up and dumped him underneath the cascade of water.

Spike began spluttering and swearing.

"Please, Spike. We don't have time."

He briskly washed him down and held open a towel for him.

"Ok. I'm awake. I can pissing well dry myself you know. What's the hurry?"

"You're meeting with the inspector in about five minutes."

"I am?"

"Damn you. I knew you wouldn't remember."

"Just teasing. Heat me some blood will you."

"Done, just don't slop it."

"Why do I feel like a school kid on the first day of the semester?"

"Here are your pants. A shirt. A tie."

"I'm not wearing a stupid tie, I hate them. What sort of idiot starts the day by putting a noose around their neck?"

"Ok. Fair point. Come one, we have to go. Now."

"My hair's wet."

"Your hair looks great."

As usual, he itched to touch and stroke, but he didn't want to annoy Spike by combing his fingers through the damp strands. Instead he guided his childe firmly towards the elevator. At nine o' clock they walked in and found Mr Mede waiting for them. Spike got his view of the inspector as Angel moved around to sit behind his desk.

He stopped dead.

The other man rose and walked towards him. And stopped about a foot away. He removed his dark glasses to reveal deep brown eyes.

"William?" He took another step.

"Ghan?"

They were within an inch of each other.

Angel stared in shock. It looked like two aggressors eying each other up, entering each other's personal space, challenging each other. Except the scent he was getting had nothing to with aggression.

"How have you been?" The dark haired man's breath whispered over his face.

"Good years, bad years. You?"

"You know."

Their lips, their chests, their hips, were mere millimetres away, the slightest sway and…

"You've changed. Leaner. More beautiful than I remember, William."

"It's been a long time."

Angel could almost see them making-out in front of his eyes, they were oblivious to all else.

"I understand you know each other?" His voice sounded loud and unnaturally harsh.

"We've met…"

"A long time…"

They shared a smiled as they both tried to reply at once.

"Ok, enough! Mr Mede I suggest that you get on with your job and Spike…"

"But you forget, this is my job and I have booked the next two hours with Spike." He turned back with a smile. "To thoroughly investigate Spike."

Spike looked at his sire in concern. "It's ok, this is Ghani."

"Just get on with it." Angel ground out. "I expect you both back here in two hours."

They walked out to the office set aside for their visitor's use. They were so close their arms were brushing as they moved.

Angel raced to the security office the hub of the Company's camera network, where the whole building was under observation. The uniformed man who attended it flicked through the cameras until the room appeared on the monitor.

Angel could only watch in horror as Mede moved towards Spike and then pressed warm lips to cool.

The security man carefully avoided looking at his unpredictable boss, choosing to take the calm expression at face value and pointedly ignoring the desk cracking beneath the vampire's grip.

Angel looked bleak and turned away

He sat down at his desk and rested his head in his hands, only moving when he heard the team gathering as arranged.

"So how did it go?" Lorne asked. "No violent fireworks I trust. The non-violence, non-magicky spells held?"

"They weren't needed." Angel replied curtly.

"Well, that's good. Isn't it?" Fred asked.

"They're lovers."

The room was silent and then they were all speaking at once.

"What?"

"Surely not?"

"Angel…"

"Personally, I see it." Lorne nodded sagely. "Beauty calls to beauty."

"But Spike isn't ga…" Gunn began, but a sharp nudge halted his comment.

"I mean Ghan is remarkably… and it would be difficult for anyone…" Fred realised that she wasn't particularly helping and tailed off uncertainly.

"Well, I don't see it!" Angel said angrily. "Spike is a moron and that Mede guy is…short."

"Well, maybe, but he is incredibly, I mean… Wes, back me up here."

"I would, Charles, but bear in mind I haven't actually met him yet. Angel, does this inspection depend on Spike being…nice to Mr Mede?"

The deep menacing growl pinned them all to their seats. Each of them had heard so there was nodenying it. Angel had growled and something primal in them found it deeply disturbing to the point of terrifying.

"Uh quite. I suggest that we really can't do anything until we talk to Spike and find out what's happening. Anyway, we mustn't take up any more of your time."

They shifted uneasily, Lorne rose and the others made to follow suit.

"Stay!"

They immediately dropped back to their chairs like well trained dogs, obedient to their owner's whim.

"We need to approach this professionally. Fred, report on your interview with him yesterday."

She nervously twined her fingers together.

"Uh. Ok. Well, he began with the Pavayne incident. What happened, how it came to our attention, where it occurred, why we took that particular action and what other responses were considered."

"He was interested in the science we used and how we meshed it with magic. Then he asked about Spike specifically, which I thought was kinda weird, as we were supposed to be talking about the work of the department. He was asking what happened when he reappeared and what his involvement with the Company is. He also wanted to know about a large outgoing on our medical budget. It turned out it was the time Spike's hands were reattached after the slayer…"

She pulled a face and made a chopping motion over her wrists.

Angel nodded and turned to Gunn.

"Gunn, your professional assessment."

"From what Fred says and from the questions he was asking me, I would evaluate our situation as precarious at best. In my interview, he was interested in employee contracts and adherence to security protocols, randomly checking employees to ensure that paperwork was in order and the Statement of Compliance to our security procedures had been signed."

"Taking this information, together with his interest in Spike, I would suggest he is going to pursue a corruption and gross negligence angle."

Stunned silence greeted this evaluation. Gunn's serious gaze caught each of them in turn before continuing with an explanation.

"He'll have proof that Spike has never signed a contract with the Company, neither has he signed up to our security protocols. If Spike were to leak confidential information, the Company would have no legal redress. This would be direct proof of gross negligence on out part."

"On top of that there's Spike's relationship to you and the fact that half the medical budget was spent on someone not directly connected to the Company. It may smack of nepotism and corruption. You wanted my professional opinion?" He asked, looking directly at Angel. "He's gunning for you personally."

Shocked silence followed this stark assessment

"Wesley?"

"Given the facts, I have to concur with Gunn's evaluation. I'm sorry, Angel."

"Ok. Now we know what we're dealing with. I need you to go through our cases and highlight Spike's involvement. I want to know what meetings he's attended and the information he's had access to. Gunn, a couple of days ago I offered Spike a job here and he said he'd consider it. I want a contract drawn up, the same terms as you're all on. I want it made clear that the medical expenditure was in the form of a sweetener to entice Spike to take the contract and if there is any other expenditure unaccounted for, include it."

"Once we've got the exact details of his involvement in Company activities we'll go through them line by line. We can't afford any nasty surprises."

Gunn cleared his throat.

"I'll get the contract drawn up, what will his position be?"

"We're going to re-open the Special Projects Division with Spike as the Head."

"Angel, is that wise? I mean… Spike…?"

Dark eyes considered them and reached a decision.

"I want to show you something."

He went to the safe, stabbed in the code and pulled out a shiny, new briefcase. They noticed that the locks on it had been broken.

"Uh. Isn't that Spike's? Are you sure you should be…?" Fred protested.

Angel ignored her, maybe he shouldn't have, but it was too late now. He delved into the case and withdrew some papers, passing a set to each of them.

"These are the plans that Spike was trying to present that day he got injured."

Wesley was skimming through, Gunn was carefully digesting the detail, Lorne wasn't a man cut out for war, the words tactics, diversions, infiltration and defection meant little to him. Fred was frowning slightly.

"You never said he was a strategist."

"He wasn't when I knew him. Guess you can learn a lot in a hundred years."

"Are you sure Spike came up with this?" Gunn asked incredulously.

Angel nodded.

"Well then." Wesley pushed up his glasses, he had read enough. "That answers my question then. Spike as Head of Special Projects."

"So we're agreed?"

They all nodded their assent.

"Ok. Wesley, I believe you have some knowledge of Spike's past one hundred years. I want you to help me draw up his résumé dealing with that period and I'll work on the twenty years previous. We need to clearly prove he was the only suitable candidate for this position. The majority of my actions can be explained as necessary incidentals for the purpose of head hunting Spike."

"Wesley, Lorne? You need to be particularly careful in your interviews with him. You know where we're coming from with this."

He quickly outlined his plan and his assumed position within it.

"Our view is that we know Spike is more than capable of doing the job. We believe him to be the most suitable candidate for the post. That much is true enough."

Again they nodded their agreement.

"He has never wittingly been given access to confidential or sensitive information but he has been and will be required to sit in on meetings for the purpose of gaining his independent advice and acclimatising him to the Company culture. Understand? Remember this Mede guy is a truth reader. If you doubt the truth of anything I've said then I suggest you start your statements with 'Angel said'. Is there anything I haven't covered?"

"Just clarification. You've been expending money on Spike for the purpose of enticing him to take the job. Is this true?"

"Yes, it is." Angel lied.

They were all bright people. The boss had said it was true and they could now refer to his words with complete honesty.

"Ok. Gather the data and we'll reconvene in an hour."

They breathed again once they were outside.

"Wasn't that interesting?"

"Shit. Is that all you have to say? This is going to be bad."

"No, I meant Angel and Spike…"

"Ohhh. Angel is interested in Spike _that_ way?" Gunn asked incredulously.

"I'm not sure if he is." Wesley replied. "But he certainly doesn't want anyone else to be. I think the potential is there and he's just starting to realise it."

It was Lorne who finally put his finger on it.

"Angelpie is an emotional desert, waiting for the rain to make it come blooming back to life. Let's face it. Theguy doesn't understand what he feels. But that wasn't sire / childe or any sort of vampire possessiveness. It's jealousy."

"Angel and Spike…?" Gunn still sounded disbelieving. "Man, we're in for a rollercoaster ride."

"Then we'll just have to hang on for dear life." Wesley replied phlegmatically.


	6. Part 6

Summary: It seems like the Inspector has his own agenda, and top of his to dolistis Spike

Warning: strong language

Feedback: Please let me know what you think…

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to Stars for her fantastic support and the beta, any errors are mine because I couldn't resist tweaking it after it was returned.

**The Relevance of Spike**

**Part 6**

As they walked to the office, Spike eyed the other man with suspicion. His brain had started to function again and it seemed more than weird that, of all people, he should turn up now, in this role. And the air he affected of cool nonchalance was as irritating as hell. Spike gazed at him searchingly as he perched on a corner of the desk.

"So what's the story? What are you doing here, Ghan?"

"Would you believe that I came to see you?"

"Uh…. No."

"Fair enough." For the first time there was a hint of uncertainty in his handsome features. "It's partly true though. I always did care more than you knew."

Spike's eyes narrowed.

"Are you still upset with me?"

"Upset? Why should I be upset?" The human replied blandly.

Ok, so that was the way he wanted to play it. Spike was more than happy to avoid the subject. He hadn't behaved well… but hey, soulless vamp, what the hell had the man expected?

Instead he asked, "Why now? It's been years."

"I heard you'd died and you'll be surprised to hear that I mourned your worthless carcass. Then rumours began surfacing and eddying. I was thinking about the past and here I am…."

"No point dwelling on it, Pet. Times change. People change."

"Not that much… you still want me, Vampire."

The man reached out a hand, grazing it lightly against Spike's cheek. His eyes questioning.

"Ghan…" Spike started.

He was abruptly silenced as a sweet tasting mouth closed over his. It seemed so long since someone had openly wanted him, without regret or doubt, that for a moment he gave in to the kiss and returned it.

But whatever he needed, he knew that he wasn't going to get it from this butterfly creature and Spike gently extricated himself

"Sorry, not interested in going there again. Don't trust you, Ghan."

"You? Don't trust me?" He asked with over-exaggerated, wide-eyed incredulity.

"Whaddya expect? I mean bloody hell. You're here to investigate my Sire and his humans. I know what you're doing, Ghan. Softening me up to pump me for info, so at least be honest about it. I ain't being used by anyone."

"Softening you up?" Lips twitched in amusement. "_So_ wrong on so many counts…. But unfortunately, I do have a job to do."

"Uh huh. Judge and executioner for Wolfram & Hart? Step down for you, ain't it, Pet?"

"Don't be like that, Will. Sure, I find out all those hidden secrets and then I pass the information on. But, I don't judge and I don't kill."

"You construe the facts to support _your_ judgement. Don't know much about the corporate world but don't treat me like a complete frigging idiot."

Mede regarded him thoughtfully.

"You worry for him - your Sire? You still care for him, don't you?"

Dishonesty was pointless; the other man could read him.

"No, I bloody well don't." He lied anyway.

But Mede didn't even hear his denial, the roar of truth drowned out the words.

"But why? Why him? He's such a little person in the scheme of things."

"Ain't you listening, Mate? Anyway, if he's so insignificant then why's he caught the interest of the Powers, both dark and light? For a small man he casts a bloody big shadow."

"You're biased when you speak of him, I suppose it's natural. He might be a small, but he's your world. To answer you, there is a saying; at a flea circus the dog will steal the show."

Spike gave s snort and began to vehemently count his points off on his fingers.

"Firstly, there's _nothing_ small about Angel. Secondly. He's is _not_ my world! Thirdly. Frigging big flea circus! Fourthly. Are you so sure that you're beyond this miniature circus, Mate?"

"Of course not. I play a part like everyone. Would I be kneeling at your feet if I were beyond it all?"

Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Kneeling?"

"Figuratively speaking." A dark intense gaze. "Literally? Maybe later."

"Told you. Not interested. And still not trusting you, Ghan."

"Why should you? Everyone always let you down, don't they, Will?"

Spike had enough self-awareness to know that this was a vulnerable spot, an easy point of attack. He retreated a step.

"I know how you work, Human. Don't start playing me…"

"Who's playing?" Dark eyes grew darker still.

"You play everyone. Why would you be any different with me?"

Ghan eyed him speculatively.

"I read the hearts of people and as you pointed out, I'm a judge. So I know how rare you are, Will."

"Well, yeah. Vampire with a soul…only two in the world. Hey, guess that makes me valuable, like an antique or something?"

"You were always precious to me…. "

Spike rolled his eyes.

"You never used to be this corny."

The man gave a sad shrug.

"You don't know what it's like. So many people, all hiding behind the lies they tell themselves, until they hardly know themselves anymore. You don't do that. For someone like me it's soothing. Your untruths are as obvious as a candy-stealing child's with the evidence of his crime smeared around his mouth."

"Oy! Whaddya mean? I'm a bloody brilliant liar!"

Mede gave a condescending smile.

"You think? Anyway, what I meant is, you have self-honesty and it makes you whole where other people are divided… take your Sire for instance."

"Leave him out of this."

A warning flash of asperity in blue eyes and an answering stab of jealousy that pierced the man's air of amused superiority.

"No, I won't! It's still about your Sire even after all these years, isn't it? Always leaping to his defence, making stupid plans to get his attention and following him around the world like a lost puppy."

And here was the pouting, self-centred young man that Spike knew. He bit back a smile at finally seeing him once more. The other man appeared to see the smile anyway and reluctantly let his truculence melt away.

"Be with me for a while? I'm not lonely when I'm with you."

"Lonely? You? Pull the other one! Everyone frigging wants you."

"So? What has 'want' to do with loneliness?"

He pulled a face.

"Desire makes people desperate. They hide their nature, twisting themselves into an appealing image. It's all just masks. How can anyone connect with a mask? It gets lonely Will. Surely you must find the same?"

Spike thought of Angel. Was it their defensive masks that kept them apart? Kept them lonely? Well it certainly didn't help. But he needed the protection, afraid of how badly Angel could hurt him if he became exposed. Why Angel pulled his mask into place everyday he wasn't so sure.

His thoughts skittered nervously away from the unanswerable and strayed instead to Sunnydale and the people he'd known there. Had they put on masks for him? He didn't think so.

"I guess you're right. Different for me though… evil demon and all. I was beneath them. They were attracted to me and despised me in the same heartbeat."

This was more honesty than he meant to reveal but this was Ghani's gift, to extract the truth, root and all.

Mede shook his head as if a disturbing image had entered it. And if he saw a battered and beaten vampire, left in an alley to face the rising sun, crying out in confusion as he protested undying love, then he held his tongue, merely saying, "Humanity can be a filthy word."

This brought Spike's mind skipping back to the boy, who had initiated the recent changes in their lives, the one who had shot him and left him and Angel to die at the hands of the demon. He could never see totally eye to eye with Angel's view of the world, humanity good, demons bad. He gave a nod of agreement.

A slight tightening of expression, but if he read Spike's thoughts, again he said nothing.

"Yet you think it's different for me? I get pretty lies and thoughts of lust as they reflect every fantasy and every depravity on me. I catch glimpses of the things they think and the things they would do. Beauty incites them to new heights of cruelty, they would own and take and smash. I know the ruthlessness of their desperation. As do you. Then there are others who fawn and hang on to every word…."

"The cult of beauty, eh, Pet?" He remembered that Ghan had views on this and sought to distract him.

"That's it exactly! Like the cult of celebrity in the modern world. People pore over every word as though each syllable has meaning, laugh at the poorest jokes. Being beautiful doesn't make me wise. It doesn't make me amusing and it doesn't make me a saint. It's nothing but a pretty façade."

A look of bemusement passed over the vampire's face.

"They take you for a saint?"

"Not the point, Will. Ah, it's alright. I'm just saying that I don't get that from you, there's something…clean about your attitude."

"Clean? You are kidding? I'm just the shit others roll in occasionally."

The sneer on the sharp face was directed only at himself.

"William…"

Ghan reached out in comfort, but was shaken off.

"I'm as depraved as they get."

"You see. That's what I'm talking about, you don't hide from yourself and you don't feed me lies. I can relax and breathe when I'm with you. You envelop me and the absence of lies makes it feels like innocence."

Spike stared at him open-mouthed, entranced at the idea of being innocent.

Ghan noticed the look and whispered softly, "Let me be what you need, just for a while. You need so much."

Spike snapped himself out of it.

"Uh huh. So you'll pretend to be what I need? Thought you hated that kind of deceit?"

"Only when it's used on me."

Spike gave his first genuine smile.

"I see what you mean, Pet. Straightforward honesty. Kind of refreshing." He saw the other man's look and hastily said, "But the answer's still no. I don't want to h…."

"Hurt Angel." Ghan finished off for him.

Those were the words he'd nearly said and Spike found himself confused.

Not because he cared for Angel. Hell, he'd known that since their first meeting. No, it was the fact that somewhere in his subconscious he believed he had the power to hurt his invulnerable Sire….

His mind drifted back to that terrible night when Angel had told him he was a disease… those words had stormed straight into his top three chart of most hurtful remarks, where he joined Cecily and Buffy in the coveted top spots. He managed to wend his way pass this thought that normally pinned him painfully in the moment and held him there.

What Angel had actually said, was that he was trying to inoculate himself with intimacy, and Spike had missed the point.

Stupid sodding prat! And for once he didn't mean Angel. Although it went without saying that he was a stupid bloody prat too…

It was the comments about the unconscious lies that people tell themselves that set the wheels in Spike's head grinding and everything that his Sire had done and said was grist to the mill. He finally churned out an answer and he almost took a breath, shocked by his conclusions. Angel was lying. So many decisions are made on instinct with the explanation dreamt up later, by those who would follow their desires and then twist their reasoning to suit.

Spike could have punched the air in delight! Who the sodding hell fights attraction by giving into it? Angel had given into it simply because he'd wanted to give in. Sod inoculation! Only the twisted mind of his Sire could have come up with that one.

Mede knew he'd lost a lot of ground in those few seconds of silence and he answered as though Spike's private thoughts were part of the conversation.

"Yet Angel doesn't have a wide array of choice. Because he didn't lose his soul in Darla, he believes that demon passion won't trigger the curse. He couldn't stomach having an evil, demon lover. That leaves you. There is only you. Do you think he would choose you if he had a choice? Whereas I have all the choice in the world…"

Spike's elation dissipated. Angel had said the same words himself. There was no other choice available to him.

Ghan leant back; satisfied he'd averted a near disaster.

"We're alike, you and I."

"You reckon?"

His eyes dulled and greyed, as he lost interest in this conversation.

Lost interest, full stop.

"You call yourself depraved? I've been twisted too, and I came by it the same way as you. When you're young you're more flexible and eventually you can find enjoyment in almost any act, however bizarre. Even ownership is a perverted form of love. You understand that, of course."

That sparked Spike back to life.

"He never bloody owned me."

Ghan regarded him thoughtfully.

"And you still regret it don't you?"

He noticed the anger building as the vampire's stance became more aggressive, and swiftly changed the subject.

"Do you want to know how I became as I am? The Eternal Judge of Truth?"

Spike slowly relaxed and gave a nod, relieved to find they were on more impersonal ground. Besides which, anything he found out could be useful to Angel and his crew.

Ghan finally went to the chair, the desk a telling barrier as he settled back

"My first owner…"

"Owner?"

Ghan merely looked and Spike nodded his unspoken agreement to let him speak without interruption.

"…was a powerful man of magic. A sorcerer, I guess you'd call him now. I was barely out of boyhood when he bought me and gave me the name Ganymede."

So that was how he came by the name. Spike had sometimes wondered if he'd been the original…

"Lover to Zeus. You're aware of his story, of course? You might not be aware that he served a practical purpose in Greek religion, validating homosexuality, and as all Greek ideas did, informing the opinions of the educated and cultured people of the Western of the world. But he wasn't just a lover. He had the role of cup bearer to the gods. I sometimes wonder how much my master saw when he first took me… Anyway, at the time I knew nothing of this. I hated him and he tried to break me, much as your Sire did with you."

"You see, I know you, William. I know you, because I know myself and know how desperation can make brutal attention seem like a form of affection and a gentle touch a sign of love."

Spike examined a speck on his boots and said nothing to this.

"He gave me this life, just as your Sire gave you yours. He was owed a favour and granted the gift of eternal life, but he turned it down. He'd lived too long already. Instead he passed it to me, told me beauty such as mine should endure. When he knew that he was dying, he finally set me free and introduced me to the most powerful beings of that time. He gave them a prophecy, saying to them;

'Behold this youth and if you see only innocence in beauty then you are fools. You see his beauty and his youth and that answers all questions for you. Yet I tell you truth is beauty, beauty is truth. He is the razor that cuts both ways. He is beauty, he is truth and he will judge you all.'

"It was kindly done. When he died, these powerful people were feared me and the role I might eventually play. I finally had freedom, eternal life and this gift for judging truth."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You wanted to know why I would choose you? It's because we're kindred, brothers under the skin. You understand me."

"I have a soul."

"So do I, it must be shrivelled like a slug in salt but I'm human, so I must have one."

"Mine is new and it owns me."

Again, not something he meant to reveal to this indecipherable man.

"Other than Angel, I've not heard of anything like this before. How did you come by it?"

"I fought for it."

"Your humanity always was tenacious."

There was a hint of admiration in his voice.

"The rumour is you died and returned? How did that happen?"

"I ain't got a clue. Anyway, surely Fred and Gunn have told you everything?"

"They've told me their version of the truth. But we know truth itself is moveable, there's my view, your view and somewhere in between we may find something resembling it."

Spike realised that this was the formal beginning of his interview.

"I was a ghost and then I wasn't."

"Succinct."

"S'all I know for sure."

"You came back and you've been helping the team ever since?"

"Not so much. Angel has been reluctant to give me information."

"Why do you think this is?"

"Cus he's an overcautious poofter?"

The questioning continued but as it drew to an end the dark man began to use little, discreet touches to emphasise his points.

"Why are you doing that?" Spike finally asked.

"You know we're on security cameras? He'll be watching us later."

"Childish, Ghan."

"Don't like him."

"I imagine he's not overly fond of you at the moment."

"Still want you. I've had to placate some powerful and ugly beings and I need you. I'm tired of being dirty. I want to cleanse myself in your integrity, bathe myself in you and wipe the filth away. You'll come to me tonight."

Spike looked astonished at the assumptions his old lover was making.

"I will? You know it's considered polite to ask first."

"I did. You said no. So now we play it a different way."

"Uh, yeah, right. As in, not a chance. Why does everyone always think they have the power to order me around?" He asked irritably.

"I don't know about others, but I assume it because I have it…. I have your friends in the palm of my hand."

There was no mistaking the hint of a threat in his friendly face. Spike couldn't have looked more surprised if the placid family dog had turned on him. Yet, he shouldn't have been. All Ghan really cared about was himself and what he wanted, with everyone else mere pieces to be used.

Spike eyed him anxiously.

"You won't hurt them?"

Mede laughed and Spike's anxiety soared into anger as his face distorted and he surged at the man's throat, teeth resting against warm human skin, with the pulsing of warm blood vibrating against his fangs. Threatening words fell from his mouth, causing razor sharp canines to graze dangerously against the smooth column of the man's neck.

"You won't hurt them."

The emphasis was entirely different and despite being eternal, a frisson of human fear ran up his spine.

"Shit, William…! Come to me tonight. Come like that."

Spike shook off the demon in frustration.

"That turned you on? Christ, it's the danger, isn't it? You're attracted by danger."

"I'm attracted to you."

"And I can terrify you. You nearly had me feeling sorry for you. Brothers under the skin! You're a bleedin' adrenalin junkie."

All boyishness fled as he once again pulled on his garb of authority.

"I believe that concludes our interview. There are things you need to know that I might be willing to divulge, for a price. I'm sure you'll have further questions and I'll be available tonight. I'll send a car for you."

"And sod you too." Spike muttered to his departing back.

He sat there trying to make sense of all that had happened. It was blackmail, sexploitation of the most basic kind, using the others as leverage. He chewed on a virtually non existent nail.

"Well? Whaddya want?"

He could sense the other vampire.

"I want you to tell me what's going on."

"If I knew I'd tell you."

"You know that man."

"We met shortly after you went off."

"And you were lovers? All these years you've called me a poofter."

"Yeah, well. You act like one. I don't."

"And you being with that…"

"Ok, enough. Get to the bleedin' point of this before we both say stuff we'll regret."

"Gunn said that he's planning to destroy me."

"Oh. Has he got the ammunition for it?"

"Possibly."

"Why's he doing it?"

"I don't know." Angel looked genuinely puzzled. "I've been racking brains. Sure, I've heard of him but I've never met him before, I would have remembered. So…. Does he still want you?"

Spike felt uncomfortable with this conversation and shifted uneasily.

"He says so."

"Do you want him?"

"That's a bit personal ain't it, Mate?"

"Don't let him use you, Spike. Not for me."

"Ok, not for you. How about for Wesley or Gunn. How about for Fred?"

"They're not in any danger."

"How do you know that? Last time I looked your sodding balls weren't made of crystal, Mate! Uh… not that I've ever looked…oh bollocks…"

Luckily his stumbling words didn't even register with Angel.

"You're just looking for an excuse to be with him."

"Really?"

Spike's cold tone should have been warning enough.

"And I'm telling you now. I won't stand for you whoring around anymore."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, that is so." He replied, bringing his face aggressively in front of Spike's and glowering at him angrily.

"I'm your Sire and all you do reflects on me. I won't let you bring more…"

"Please continue. This is most enlightening. More what? Shame? Embarrassment?"

Angel didn't answer because, if he did, the word would be pain. Spike would find it amusing that his whoring brought him pain. He wouldn't expose himself to that scathing tongue.

"Just get lost, Spike. Go play with the sunbeams or something."

Spike nodded, as if those words confirmed everything. Getting up he deliberately knocked Angel as he pushed past.

Angel cursed angrily under his breath. He wished he could take back his petty words. He hadn't come here to fight.

Spike made his way to Fred's; she was always a calming influence and would put up with his ranting without getting annoyed.

"Christ. I sodding well hate that bastard. Thinking he frigging owns me."

"Mr Mede?"

"Angel."

"Oh."

"Although you're right, I bloody hate him too."

"You must have liked him at one time?"

Spike pouted slightly at the euphemism.

"Like ain't exactly the word, Pet. Anyway, what I found acceptable then ain't so easy to stomach with a soul."

"Tell me about him. The way he looks, it dazzles me, I don't see him objectively. Is he evil?"

"Yeah."

He considered this and then shook his head.

"Well, not exactly. Amoral rather than evil."

"He doesn't know right from wrong?"

"He doesn't think in those terms, Luv. There's what he wants and what he has to do to get it."

"Oh…and he… ya know… wants you?"

Spike shrugged his shoulders and Fred understood that this was not a topic for conversation.

"How did his working for Wolfram & Hart come about?"

"Dunno. Guess the way he looks gives him an advantage in this line of work. Takes people a little off guard. He's known as the Eternal Judge of Truth and Wolfram & Hart seem to be easily impressed by titles."

"I've often wondered what it would be like to be, well…beautiful. To never be overlooked. It must be kinda nice." She trailed off and turned to her work, hiding whatever was in her mind with petty and mundane tasks.

"Are you kidding me?"

"It's ok. I wasn't dangling for a compliment. Cordelia was beautiful, nobody could ever overlook her. I'm... Fred." She gave a small smile.

"Yeah, you're just Fred." Spike agreed.

Despite protestations of not wanting compliments she was disappointed at having her inadequacies confirmed.

"So you thought Cordelia beautiful. What do you think of Gunn?"

Fred smiled. She could still appreciate attractiveness even if she didn't share it.

"Physically? He's very good looking, very masculine."

"And Wesley?"

"Wesley is…" This almost stumped her. She was going to say cute but there was occasionally something stern and hard about him, which defied his sweet boyish air. She thought of all the words she privately thought when she gazed at Wesley - handsome, sexy, breathtaking - but decided they said more about her than Wesley.

"Wesley is a very striking man."

"So you had these two incomparable hunks fighting over you. You. Not Cordelia. And despite being noble warrior types, they're still men and they're attracted to beauty. Doesn't that tell you something about yourself?"

"You heard about that? Well, I, you know, not really…" She stumbled, pleasure at his words turning her pink and making her less coherent than usual.

"Yes, really. And don't you forget it."

"Well you have the most gorgeous man in the world chasing you. What does that tell you?"

"Dunno. His motives have me at a loss. Could do with some help, but the Poof is being his normal reasonable self."

"I'll always be here for you, Spike."

"Yeah, I know." He cast her a tender look. "I 'preciate it, luv."

oooo

Angel, Gunn and Wesley were covering all the points of Spike's involvement with the Company.

"It would really help to have Spike here. You're being incredibly shortsighted, Angel. You've proved to us all that he's not stupid."

Angel wasn't sure he could bear to face his hostile childe. And even though he was sorry for his angry words, the kiss between Spike and that man gnawed at him like a wolf chewing through the guts of a deer. Also…

"I'd have to apologise to him, Wes." He said miserably. "He'd gloat over it for… well, forever."

"If you don't get his help you won't have forever."

He pouted but it was wasted on Wesley, so he gave in gracelessly and pressed the buzzer.

"Harmony? Please tell…ask Spike to come to my office, immediately."

He turned to Wesley as though it was entirely his fault.

"If he smirks…"

"As the more senior of the two, you'll take the moral high ground and allow him his little victory."

He made Angel feel like a schoolboy; he wanted to hang his head and say, yes sir.

Spike entered.

"You called, oh Master."

Angel took a breath and blurted out his apology.

"I'm sorry for earlier, Spike, having a bad day, took it out on you, could do with your help."

Spike managed to keep his eyebrows from zooming up to his hairline and kept his face blank. He was impressed at the speed of the words… all in one breath as well. Angel had clearly hated every millisecond of that. He guessed Wesley had forced him to it. Huh, good old Wes. All credit to Percy, Angel looked _really_ uncomfortable. And so he sodding should.

"Uh huh. Fair enough. What do you want me to do?"

"We need to know the details of cases you've managed to get embroiled… helped with, since you've been here."

"Not been that much really. You never particularly wanted my help, if you remember."

Angel was relieved to finally get a snarky comment out of Spike. He'd been far too mature and reasonable. It was off-putting and made him feel permanently wrong footed.

"Whatever you can remember would be helpful, Spike." Wesley said placatingly.

"Don't have to remember."

"No you don't have to, but I'd be very grateful…" Angel could do mature and reasonable, especially when it highlighted Spike's deficiencies in this area.

"I mean, I have no need to remember. I've kept a diary since I came back."

"Really? That is excellent news."

Spike smiled at Wesley's relieved appreciation.

"I'll go get them. Lend me a car, Peaches and I'll be back in twenty."

"Yeah. Uh, thanks Spike. Choose whichever one you want."

A two fingered salute and he was off.

"You see how painless that was, Angel? And you misjudged him, he didn't smirk."

"You might not have been able to see it, but he was smirking on the inside." The vampire muttered.

Wesley gave him a look of disbelief but refrained from commenting

They spent the next twenty minutes building their defence for the money spent on Pavayne.

"I think we have that sufficiently covered. Obviously we couldn't allow Pavayne to continue preying on our employees. We may have planned to help Spike, but ultimately there was no benefit to him."

"Okay, what next?"

"We have the mentally disturbed slayer. "

"His information didn't come through us though. The leak came from Eve and now everyone knows that she was playing her own game."

"His hands."

"He's a freaking vampire, Wesley. He heals. Of course we'd reattach his hands!"

Maybe it should have struck him as weird at the time, how upsetting he'd found the whole incident. After all, he'd staked his own Sire and Penn, and burnt Dru and Darla, but his guts had clenched in horror when he'd seen William so injured and distressed.

"He was too valuable to lose, too valuable an ally to lose." Angel corrected himself with hardly a pause.

Wesley nodded at him thoughtfully.

"I thought things had been changing between you two recently, but I'm wrong aren't I? It's always been there between you."

Angel could feel himself getting hot, which was a pretty neat trick for a vampire.

"Me and Spike… I don't know what you're implying…"

"Merely that you and Spike were better friends than I originally realised."

Wesley met Angel's glare with his own steady gaze, until brown eyes lowered. Why did Wesley always make him feel as though he was being childish?

"Wouldn't say we were friends, exactly. I was…am his Sire. But these days…" There was nothing more to say. In the old days their relationship had been strictly Sire and Childe, teacher and pupil. These days? Christ knows.

Wesley seemed to make up his own ending to the sentence.

"You know, I wouldn't dream of interfering, but don't you think it would be a good idea to tell him how you feel? If you two would just work together you could be aformidable team."

"No." Angel replied shortly and without explanation.

Wesley realised he'd overstepped some boundary and quickly retreated back to his side of the invisible line.

"Ah. So what else have we got?"

They returned to work, their desultory conversation remaining entirely professional.

"Here we go." Spike finally returned with a couple of spiral bound notebooks in his hand.

Angel looked at them and wondered if Spike ever wrote about him… maybe a poem. Maybe not. He could imagine how that would go…

"So starting from the beginning. I was burning and suddenly I wasn't and you were standing in front of me. Naturally I assumed everything was your fault, Peaches, and overtaken by righteous anger, I attacked you. Only to fall right through you and that's when I found out I was a buggering ghost."

"Ok. Skip that part, it's not important."

"Not important! Well cheers. I get spat out of hell and it's not important. Bloody typical…"

"Angel simply meant that it's not relevant to what we're working on."

The words, not relevant, struck another nerve and he was just about to unleash a new torrent of words, but Angel caught at his hand.

"Please, Spike."

Spike stilled, seemingly spellbound by the large hand that caught him, only moving again when Angel let it fall. He cleared his throat and turned back to his tatty notebook.

"Uh. Where was I…? Yeah, I backed you up against that sorcerer."

Angel, in turn, was fascinated by Spike's response to his touch, filing away his reaction for later analysis.

Reluctantly he forced his attention back to the task in hand. Hainsley… he could recall it perfectly.

"You were a ghost and you hatched that plan to get rid of Hainsley."

"Exactly," Wesley interjected, "he was a ghost. We had no control over what he did or what information he had access to."

"We used his plan."

"And it worked. It backs up your claims that he would be a valuable asset to the firm."

"Huh?"

Wesley glanced from one to the other.

"Angel, you have told Spike what we're doing here?"

"Well, duh. Obviously."

Spike stared at them both with a blank expression.

"Maybe not in so many words…"

Wesley shook his head.

"Honestly, I despair."

"Would one of you care to enlighten me? Peaches has called me many things but not to my knowledge, an asset. Or did you mean ass? Cus I've heard that one before, and can I just say: it's getting kind of old."

"Angel's told you that this Mede fellow appears to be hell bent on destroying him?"

"Yeah, I got that bit." Spike's lips tightened in anger.

"We believe he's attempting to prove corruption and gross negligence on our part. Gross negligence for allowing you to have access to sensitive Company information, without formally employing you or obtaining your compliance to our information security procedures. This is the allegation we're attempting to refute, by going through your actions in minute detail."

"Okay I get that, but where does corruption come into it. I thought that was the sort of thing you lot of do-gooders fought against."

"Again, it's to do with you. Mr Mede has indicated his belief that you have enjoyed certain privileges as a direct result of your relationship to Angel."

"He don't know much about our relationship then, does he? I'm occasionally privileged with the back of his hand and the toe of his size thirteens."

"The Company has actually expended rather a lot of money and effort on you, Spike."

"Oh."

"There are various ways of accounting for it. Examining the amulet was important for reasons of furthering our knowledge generally and ensuring it didn't present a danger to the Company or its employees. The money spent trying to bring you back resulted in the banishment of Pavayne, so I doubt if that will even be brought up. However, rather than excuse each individual act, which I am sure we could do, we considered it easier to put them under the umbrella of head hunting."

"My head?" Spike looked confused and a hand went unconsciously to his neck. "I like my head where it is."

"No. Head hunting, to lay out benefits and sweeteners to entice to the Company the best candidate for the job."

Spike was beginning to look a trifle wild around the eyes and he turned to Angel for help, but the taciturn vampire lived up to his nature and remained silent.

"Job?"

"Head of Special Projects."

"You expect anyone to believe that I would be the most suitable candidate for this…job?" He spat the final word as though it were poisonous. "What makes you think I'd accept a job here? It's dirty work and dirty money."

Angel finally spoke.

"You said you'd consider working for me. I forget, what is the remuneration package again, Wes."

"For a Head of Department? Currently, a little over $250k per annum."

Spike's jaw dropped open, he hesitated. They waited silently and let the money do the talking. It argued persuasively, they could see that Spike was being talked around to the idea.

"You're serious aren't you? So you think this could work?"

"Yes, I think it could. There's no doubt in my mind that you're the best person for the job. You're accustomed to dealing with unusual and dangerous situations. You've helped fight two apocalypses and demonstrated your ability to come up with creative and original plans… and when you stick to them they're even successful. It'll be an aggressive pro-active role...

Spike raised his hand for attention.

"Uh. Does that mean I get to go out and fight demons?"

"It means you get to bring the fight to them, yes. We've been acting like smoke jumpers, pouncing on flames as they appear, but mostly we're just finding more smoke. We need to discover the fire. Take my word for it, somewhere it'll be smouldering away quietly and if we wait for the spire of flames to appear, we're gonna crash and burn. This is where you come in."

"To find the fire?" Spike cocked his head in query.

These were his thoughts on his last Deathday, all contained in the plans he'd wanted to present. When no one would listen. Now he was being paid a cool quarter of a million for the privilege. It was a strange world.

"Uh huh." He looked Spike directly in the eyes. "Frankly, there's no one else I'd consider for the position."

Spike had nothing to say to this.

All these years desperately wanting approval and now it was given freely in a couple of short sentences. There should be fanfares and drum rolls for this momentous occasion.

He wanted to be alone, somewhere he could wallow in the feeling of achievement and play Angel's earth-shattering words through again and again, recall in privacy the expression on his face and the intensity of his eyes, and let William curl up and die of happiness.


	7. Part 7

Summary: Angel and Spike are finally getting it together but Spike is left with a dilemma…

Warning: Strong language

Feedback: Please let me know what you think…

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to Stars for her fantastic support and the beta, all mistakes due to after-beta tinkering!

**Relevance of Spike**

**Part 7**

Instead of retreating to privately enjoy the glow of Angle's approval, Spike lowered his face, hiding the sudden profusion of emotion and returned to his journal, pretending to find his place as he attempted to regain his composure.

"Uh…" He struggled to bring himself back on track "Yeah…after Hainsley there was me being dragged back to hell and begging for help. Peaches was busy saving the werewolf. It was a scary time, actually, but luckily Fred was listening."

Angel looked down.

"S'okay, Pet. I asked Fred not to tell you."

But whatever Spike said, it didn't comfort the other vampire. In his pig-headed blindness, he'd nearly let his Childe slip away. Now all he wanted to do was wrap him in cotton wool, cocoon him and lock him away from everyone else.

It was Wesley who broke the uncomfortable silence.

"What did Fred do for you?"

Spike shrugged, not altogether sure exactly what she'd been doing.

"She ran tests and she was kind."

Wesley smiled gently.

"Yes. She's a wonderful person." He agreed before clearing his throat and continuing. "So she carried out tests…"

The conversation continued carefully covering all points.

Lunchtime came and Lorne was looking agitated as he emerged from his interview with Mede. A 'now what' look from Angel prompted him to shake his head.

"I'm sorry, Angelpie, he was probing was about Spike, wanted to know what everyone thought of him" He shook his head in apology. "I had to tell him."

"What did you say?" Spike asked curiously.

Lorne merely looked significantly at Angel and replied, "The truth."

Angel slowly nodded his understanding, acknowledging that Lorne probably knew more about his feelings than he did himself. Somehow, the fact that someone else knew seemed to make it more real.

"Did anything else significant or even insignificant fall out of your meeting?" Wesley asked.

"It was much as Gunn reported yesterday, but he wanted to get a handle on emotions and tensions."

"Did you get any sort of reading from him?" Spike asked.

"Just an inkling. A warning for you, sweetcheeks, keep your back to the wall. And for the boss, a pretty even mix of respect and derision but on the whole he thinks Angel is soft and will be easy prey…. Hey, easy Big Guy, I'm just the messenger. Also? There's one other thing I got from him. He's hiding something. And it's something pretty damned big. He thought he was managing to keep it from me but he's not as good as he thinks he is. He damn near had a red neon sign flashing over his head saying I've got a secret."

"I don't like the sound of this." Wesley said. "Supposing we're missing some piece of crucial information?"

The implications for Angel, and maybe themselves, were all too clear.

Spike listened in disbelief, knowing that if Ghan had wanted to hide a secret then there was little doubt he could have. Even from Lorne. This was a personal message and a warning. Childish, but typically Ghan. A reminder that he had a secret and wasn't afraid to use it.'

"I could try…" Lorne began.

"No. I want you all to stay clear of him. No casual encounters or conversations. Formal meetings only," Angel refrained from glancing in Spike's direction, "to be arranged through me."

The meeting broke up and Spike found a quiet office where he could contemplate his choices.

Thought escaped him and he ended up contemplating his black, badass nails instead. Huh, badass? They lied. They announced to the world that here was the Big Bad. The attitude may still be in place but the reality had long since evaporated like dew in the sun. He looked up with a sigh, knowing that Wesley was watching him, concern rolling off him in waves.

"You're worried about Angel?" He asked.

"Nah. The Ponce will be fine."

The next words gave lie to his unconcern, as he shook his head.

"I think I need to see Ghan and winkle some more info out of him."

He really didn't want to do this but the thought of Angel losing his head went beyond distress. It dug out his flesh and everything vital, leaving him feeling profoundly empty.

"Mede? Angel said none of us are to see him without his permission." A worried crease marred his smooth brow.

"Angel is a bloody fool to himself. If I can turn the situation to our advantage I will."

Wesley's frown deepened and he couldn't contain his anxiety.

"Don't rush into anything, Spike. You can be a little… impetuous sometimes."

Spike gave a forced smile.

"And if I do nothing and you all go to the wall? You know my motto, Percy; regret the things you did and not the things you didn't."

This did nothing to allay Wesley's fears.

"And all the things you've done and all the regret that trails behind you like the chains of Marley's ghost, teaches you nothing? I'm deeply disappointed in you, Spike."

"Yeah? You're not the first. Doubt if you'll be the last."

"You realise I'll have to tell Angel…"

"Headboy running to tell tales? Do what you want. Don't matter. I've been told to be proactive. Find the source of the fire and that's what I'm doing."

"I have to go. It's time for my interrogation with Mede. Don't decide anything in haste, Spike. Think on what you're doing."

With that he turned away.

oooo

Spike had decided to hold off any decision until Wesley had concluded his meeting and reported back, so he was frustrated that there was nothing new to add. Other than Mede made Wes's skin crawl and that the ex-watcher disagreed with Fred. He thought Mede was hardly attractive at all.

Staring blankly out of the window, Spike pretended an interest in the city below, whilst the meeting dragged on behind him. Everyone talked a lot, but there was nothing new on the table. Now it was dark and soon a car would be arriving for him.

He heard everyone leave. Everyone except…

"It'll be ok, Spike."

Angel had moved silently to stand shoulder to shoulder beside him.

"Will it?" Spike looked up at him, trying to guess if it was just casual reassurance or something his Sire knew from sources unknown.

Angel nodded but was obviously distracted and a small frown creased his brow.

"What is it?"

"Why do I even need to be fighting like this? When I first took over they knew my goal was to help those in need. You were in need, of course we all helped you."

"Some more reluctantly than others."

He realised what he'd said and quickly turned to face Angel, a word of apology on his lips. He didn't want to fight. Not tonight. But Angel was hardly aware of his comment.

"So why have they suddenly changed the rules of the game? Why must I justify helping you?"

"Maybe the rules haven't changed."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… we're just assuming that Ghan has found some evidence against you, ain't we? Maybe it's just what he wants us to think."

"But why? Just for the fun of watching me squirm? There has to be more to it than that."

Which brought Spike back to his starting point. He needed the information that only Ghan could supply. He turned away again, for once, grateful that there was no reflection staring back from the window. Christ knows, he couldn't have kept his feelings from showing on his face if he'd tried.

"It don't seem likely that someone would engineer this whole elaborate charade just for the purpose of…"

"Being with you? I agree. I mean tell me, what the hell is so damned special about you? Why does everyone want you?"

There was something in Angel's voice as he asked that last question that tore at Spike. He sounded…plaintive. Suddenly, Spike was tired of the way they danced around each other, tired of second-guessing if Angel had any sort of feeling for him. And really tired of lying and being lied to.

"He's sending a car for me tonight."

"Oh."

"What? If you've got something to say, just come out and say it."

"You're your own person, Spike. You can do what you want. I don't own you."

"No you don't. You never did."

Now it was Angel's turn to hear something in the tone.

"You told me once that you don't do casual, so what is it? What is this thing you have with Mede? Is it love?"

"Of course it ain't!"

"Then what."

Another voice answered him and the fact that neither vampire noticed Wesley approach, showed how intensely they were involved in this conversation.

"I rather think he believes he's buying your life. There's the report you asked for on my meeting with Mede."

Spike threw him an angry look.

Angel gave a small a laugh that failed to reach his eyes.

"Funny. Spike has made it quite clear what he thinks of me."

Despite the filthy looks, which were being thrown like spears in his direction, Wesley couldn't resist a parting shot. Honestly, if he left it to those two, their misunderstandings would drag on for another century.

"Yes, I rather believe he has."

With that he made a strategic exit with two pairs of eyes digging uncomfortable into his back.

"So…. What was that about? My life…?" Angel finally asked; his brow furrowing and his eyes narrowing to piercing gimlets.

Spike just shrugged and gave in. Damned if he knew what to do, maybe Angel could come up with something.

"Ghan's got a secret, told me he'd send a car for me if wanted to ask the questions."

"And is he telling the truth? He'll answer them?"

"He said so."

"So a favour, out of the goodness of his heart? I don't think so. So what is it? Is Wes right? You're selling yourself to keep me safe. Is that what you think you're doing?"

Spike silently worried at the newly applied black varnish on his nails. He'd never felt less like the Big Bad.

Something inside Angel was lurching madly as he watched his anxious childe.

"He wants you." The words came out in quiet hiss through gritted teeth. "Well, he's damned well not having you!"

He spun Spike around and eyes finally met and locked.

"Tell me honestly! Is this what you want?"

Spike stopped tearing at his nails and looked up.

"What the hell do you think, Angel? To be blackmailed, to be powerless, to not know what the hell I'm letting myself in for, but forced to go through with whatever he wants… yeah, sure. A frigging dream date, innit?"

"Oh Jesus, Spike…! Don't do it. Not for me. Listen, I have my own plans… trust me. There's no need to do this."

"How can you say there's no need? We don't know what it is he knows."

"God, this is such a bloody mess."

Spike couldn't disagree.

"What do you want me to do?"

He really wanted to know. Not because it would change his decision, but he needed to know for his own peace of mind if Angel would willingly pimp him out.

"I want you not to climb into that damned car. I want you to stay here with me. I want…"

He caught Spike and roughly pulled him into an embrace.

"I want." He finished softly.

That answered the question. And Spike found himself holding on tight to his powerful Sire, wishing more than ever that he didn't have to do this, as Angel gently soothed him.

"We'll think of something, Will."

Twenty minutes later they were sitting on the couch, still thinking. Angel had grabbed his wrist to stop him tearing at the edges of his nails.

"Jees, the situations you get yourself into! How did you get to know this guy anyway? I mean vampire and human, not normally... well yeah, Buffy obviously…." He stopped.

"Dunno. It just sort of happened. I mean he does stand out in a crowd. Grabs your attention."

Angel grunted noncommittally. "You never showed an interest in men before, that I recall."

"Bloody hell, Peaches, I didn't look at him it that way! I was stalking the bloke, wasn't I? Then I noticed he was a bit odd... I mean, he had dealings with demons but they treated him like he was a lit fuse."

The grip eased from Spikes wrist and unconsciously slipped down to his hand, lightly covering it.

"Didn't that kinda give you a clue that maybe he wasn't the best victim in the world? I mean, making demons nervous, a bit of a give away?"

Spike was kind of half distracted. Was Angel holding his hand?

"Uh…. Didn't occur to me. Anyway, finally jumped him, but even that was strange….Yeah, he was scared but not mortally terrified. You'd think being bitten by a vamp was nothing more than a rollercoaster ride. He was kinda enjoying it, yer know? Then I noticed the really odd thing about him. He refused to die. There couldn't have been more than a thimbleful of blood in him and yet somehow he was still alive."

"Shit, Spike you bit an immortal judge!"

The pressure on his hand tightened in fear, as Angel realised exactly what Spike had tried to do.

"Well what did I know? Had no bleedin' Sire around to teach me any better, did I? He told me I must be very young if I hadn't heard of him and asked me to carry him home cus he felt a little weak. Well you've gotta admire the attitude."

Angel felt no such compulsion.

"So you took him to his place and?"

"And stayed a while."

"Uh huh. Became adventurous and expanded your horizons…. With him?"

"You're asking if we shagged? The answer is yeah, we did."

His hand was clamped painfully for a moment.

"Didn't it bother him that you ate his kind? Frigging hell, you tried to eat him!"

Spike couldn't even be bothered with the obvious crack and just gave a shrug.

"Think he viewed it as part of the world. The tiger, the lion, the vampire. Natural selection and all that. Morality ain't really his subject."

A thumb was now circling the inside of his palm and Spike was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

"How long were you together?"

"A couple of months."

"Not long. What happened?"

"Heard that Dru had left her latest shag and was looking for me again. So I left."

"Was the human upset that you were leaving?"

Spike looked a little shifty.

"Dunno."

Now that expression Angel recognised of old and he carefully probed a bit deeper.

"Oh. He doesn't seem the type to hide his emotions."

It was impossible to concentrate on lying when Angel was doing _that_ to his fingers, those long cool strokes…

"Nah. That was the problem. Didn't want a scene, so went out to hunt and never came back."

Damn, Ghan was right, he was afrigging terrible liar! And now Angel had removed his hand altogether. He pouted as he watched it gesturing angrily, wanted to drag it back and make it move across his naked skin again.

"Christ, Spike! No wonder the guy wants revenge, if that has been festering in him for all these years. Why didn't you tell us earlier? We might have been able to…"

Spike sighed and reluctantly abandoned his hand… well, ok, technically it belonged to Angel seeing it was attached to him and everything…

"Able to what? What could you have done differently? Anyway, wasn't my fault, I assumed he'd have guessed something was up, what with him being a truth reader and everything…"

Angel shook his head.

"No you didn't. You wanted an easy out and took it. Jeez, I've been beating myself up thinking it's something I've done to him in the past. I might have frigging guessed it would all come back to you!"

Spike pouted but couldn't deny it.

"So have you thought of a way out of this yet? Really don't want to become his toy for the night."

Angel rubbed a hand down the back of Spike's neck.

"I'm sorry…."

So, no plan then. At least he had Angel's hand caressing his flesh once more and almost purred to the touch.

"Oh."

Angel looked at his face and wanted to comfort him, pulling him into a hug, which Spike reluctantly allowed.

"What time is he coming for you?"

"Dunno. He just said he'd send a car tonight."

"Perhaps it won't be what we think."

"Perhaps."

"I'd take your place if I thought it would help…"

"You wouldn't. You're only saying that cus Ghan hates yer guts so you know you're safe."

"I might have done." Angel replied defensively.

"You can't stand anyone having power over you."

"You're no better. I'm your Sire. I should have power over you but I never have. I've had to fight for every bit of influence."

"That's just me, yeah? Independent."

"Wild. Out of control…"

"Free spirit."

"A menace to society and a danger to yourself."

"Used to be once." He sounded regretful.

Angel's brows drew together.

"You miss being evil?"

"No… Just that they were simpler times, yeah? Want, take have. You must miss some things…"

"Nothing. I wouldn't choose to be Angelus again for the whole world."

"Nothing?"

"You don't understand, Spike. You've never had the same sort of perverse pleasure in evil as Angelus. You just enjoyed your unlife and people got hurt and killed and murdered but you didn't care either way, there was no malice. I guess that man was right. You were no different to any other natural predator. Whereas I was a demon."

"Oy, take that back! I was a bloody brilliant demon."

"No. You weren't."

"Well why did Angelus keep me around so long if he thought I was so terrible."

"He kinda cared for you. I mean, yeah, irritating as hell, always more trouble than you were worth but he loved your fire for life."

"What a pile of crap! He didn't even like me."

"He wanted you, Spike. And you kept refusing him, which didn't exactly put him in the best of tempers."

"Huh?"

Spike looked completely gobsmacked and wondered if he'd misheard.

"Oh, come on, Peaches. You're kidding me?"

"Really not. I mean, all those mornings we woke up together…"

"When you were sparking with fury to find me wrapped around you?"

"Angry? What the hell are you talking about? Every time it happened, you would run from me… him. Course he was pissed off."

"Cus you… he hated me being there!"

"He didn't hate you being there. When I got my soul I couldn't sleep, partly because of the demon's memories and partly because I missed you tucked under my chin."

"You missed me? _You,_ as in Angel?"

They waited in the silence that seemed to grow and spread until it settled over them like a warm blanket, comforting them both.

"Yeah. I missed you." Angel's voice slid softly through the silence.

Spike blinked, the small gesture gave him a fraction of time to collect the insanity of his thoughts. When he opened them, he found it wasn't his thoughts that were insane, but the world had gone stark raving mad. It had melted into his imagination and Angel was saying things that Spike only dreamed of.

"And Angelus didn't mind waking with me?"

"I told you, he loved it. Except for anticipating the moment when your eyes would open and you'd fly away again. He used to enjoy the time just before you woke… you used to try to bury yourself in me…. You wanted him too?"

"I was kind of innocent in those days, I hardly knew what I wanted… just knew it had something to do with you. Loved touching you, holding you. Loved the way you smelt and the way you twisted the world to suit you."

"Do you still love m… all those things about me?"

Spike lowered his eyes shyly and whispered, "Yeah."

Angel stared in disbelief at getting this answer. If Spike's world had gone insane, his was slowly making sense, as his Childe's shy little look turned his bones to water. It was so bloody adorable that Angel found himself smiling. The smile widened and he began to laugh.

Spike didn't know whether to be offended or to smile back.

"What? What is it, Poof?"

Angel finally realised exactly what it was he felt for this person. The sire/childe bond, the affection, the want, the need, the desire. Nothing but add-ons to the main emotion. It made him feel brave. It made him want to take yawning chasms in a single leap. It made him want to risk everything on the chance turn of a card.

It made him take his very unlife into his hands.

"I love you, Spike. I love you so damn much."

For the second time that evening Spike looked stunned.

He started a couple of sentences but nothing came out. He finally found his voice.

"What are you talking about? It's not true! You hate me."

Angel was playing with a strand of hair, coaxing the gel out of it until it twirled around his finger in a shiny, golden ringlet, whilst a small smile hovered around his mouth. Spike hadn't run from him screaming, which was a definite plus. In fact, he was leaning slightly in towards the playful fingers.

"Yeah. Really feeling the hate here."

Spike was silent.

"So are you gonna say something."

"Why now? Why did you have to tell me now?"

"I only just figured it out. Why? What difference does it make?"

"A big difference! I'm about to leave, to do God knows what. If he decides… if he… Christ, Peaches! No one has ever done that to me… I've always been the one in control, yeah? Supposing he wants to…?"

Angel managed to figure out what he was doing his best not to say.

"You've never…?"

"Course not!"

"Jeez! You can't go! That freaking creep is not gonna be your first!"

Angel going apeshit, really wasn't helping.

"I suppose, just have to think what difference does it make in the long run? It doesn't mean anything really…."

"It means something." Angel's voice was dark and intense. "And I want it to be me... It should be me! I'm the one who loves you. Your first time should at least be with someone who loves you…"

Spike still couldn't quite get his head around the l word. Of all the four lettered words that fell from Angel's mouth that was the one he'd honestly never expected to be applied to him. Hell, he couldn't even say it in his head, it freaked him out.

Angel noticed his face and stroked along a sharp cheekbone.

"What's the matter, Will? Have I made things uncomfortable…"

Spike looked into his eyes.

"I never knew you were that brave, Luv."

"Brave? It didn't take courage…"

"Yeah, it did. I know it did. Cus I've never managed to find it."

"You? You're the most courageous person I know. The way you throw yourself headlong into a fight…"

"Ain't talking about fighting, am I?"

"Ok. So. Are you gonna tell me what you _are_ talking about?"

"Since the first night I met you, I've…………………"

Spike's voice was so low and mumbled that even Angel's heightened vampire hearing couldn't make out the words. But it seemed vitally important that he did.

"Spike?"

"Bloody hell, Peaches Do I really have to say it…?" He pleaded.

"Yeah. I really think you do."

It was such a fundamental thing. Denying his love for Angel made up his whole approach to life. What would his life be without that foundation? Would everything slowly tumble down around him?

And then he looked into intent brown eyes that gazed at him so hopefully and suddenly it was bursting out of him. He had to say it or explode from the pressure of keeping the words locked inside.

"I love you…" he got no further with his quiet declaration.

Angel had pounced.

One moment he was sitting staring as his childe as Spike struggled to find the words and the next he was laying on top of Spike. Angel's lips sealed over his, sucking the words that lingered on his tongue, devouring every word that would have spilt from his mouth. Claiming every word of love that Spike would have uttered because he needed no more than those three words he'd heard.

Maybe later they'd decorate this feeling with other words and actions, but for the moment he revelled in the simplicity of being in love.

Time slowed to individual moments, found and held and treasured like diamonds unearthed from the depths of mountains, and never was there jewels as precious as these seconds. Pearl drops caught, hanging forever in the web of their eternity, to be held in their minds until the last days of their unlife.

Each meeting of lips, the brush of soft flesh, loving hands that touched in wonder, eyes that beheld beauty as though it were newly created the instant they let love explode in their hearts.

These delicate moments tinkled into fragments, shattered by Harmony's voice chirping on the intercom.

"Bossy? I mean, Boss. There's a car here for Spike. Hey Spikey, where you going?"


	8. Part 8

Summary: So would you sell yourself to save the person you love…? More to the point, would Spike?

Warning: Strong language and mild torture

Feedback: Please let me know what you think…

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to Stars for her fantasticencouragement andhalf a day turn around on the beta and thanks to all of you for readingwhatseems to be turning into a long, long fic...

Part 8 

The swollen, rolling wave of emotion crashed and broke upon the granite of reality and then retreated in a surging backrush, leaving them stranded in confusion. Slowly, eyes refocused on a world where other people existed. They parted gradually, first lips, followed by bodies, until only hands lingered, reluctant to lose this last connection, as though it would stretch and break with distance, never to reform.

Angel was the first to recover.

"Ok. Here's what we'll do."

He snapped to his feet and walked over to the intercom, leaving Spike blinking in bewilderment at the sudden shift in mood.

"Harmony, tell the driver that Spike won't be going with him after all."

There was no way that he was going to let Spike go anywhere tonight. He began to pace restlessly, with his head down, deep in thought.

"We'll trace that Mede guy. I'll get a team working on it. We'll confront him and force the information out of him."

Spike looked doubtful, desperate for this to be the plan that would keep him here with Angel, but innate cynicism was bubbling to the surface, and his raised brows suggested a deeper scepticism than his mild words implied.

"He's employed by the Senior Partners. You really don't wanna start battling them."

"It won't come to that. I'm sure they're going to be overjoyed to find that their inspector is playing his own game."

"I dunno… I imagine a certain amount of corruption is probably obligatory. What makes you think you can make Ghan talk?"

Angel returned a steady gaze.

"You doubt me? It might take time but in the end…"

So this was it. Torture the human. Spike shook his head, unwilling to believe that Angel would compromise such a fundamental part of his character and felt forced to protest on behalf of those overruled principles.

"You don't hurt humans."

"I don't kill humans," Angel corrected. "Besides, is he even human anymore?"

Spike recognised sophistry when it hit him in the face.

"That's bollocks and you know it. His heart beats, he breathes and he has a human soul. Think that qualifies him."

"He's immortal and he works for Wolfram & Hart."

"Yeah? Bit like us then, ain't he?"

"You really think that he could be on our side?"

Spike released a small snort.

"The only side he's ever on is his own."

"Well, selfish can be evil, it depends what he wants."

This statement brought to Angel's mind exactly what the man wanted.

"And there is no way you're going with him, even if I have to hogtie you," he growled. "I'll call in the others and we'll think of something."

Spike nodded absently, as he wandered around the office. A cat statue caught his eye, standing sentinel-like beside the door, probably represented some god or other. His hand trailed over the carven features of the heavy stone. He wasn't a complete philistine, this cat was perfect.

Angel turned towards the phone, making good on his intention of calling everyone in and then got no further, as **the** statuette came crashing down on the back of his head; he collapsed to the floor.

Spike looked down with genuine regret in his eyes.

"Sorry, Pet. Really crap plan and I ain't gonna risk losing you now."

He pressed a button on the intercom.

"Harm? Tell the driver, I'll be right with him."

Minutes later Angel was blinking and wondering what had happened. It didn't take long to piece together the clues... throbbing head, a broken statue and no Spike. Sekhmet Bast was supposed to be the guardian of the home? The hell she was. He'd always hated the thing and she looked no better broken. The supercilious eyes of the decapitated cat goddess watched him mockingly.

Angrily, Angel cursed his childe. Why did he have to fall for a vicious little bastard, whose first reaction was always bloody violence? His hand moved to the back of his head and he flinched at finding a tender lump, his hand came away, sticky with blood. Violence solves nothing, and when this was all over, he was going to beat that thought into **the** stupid, bleach blond and teach him the value of discussion.

Meanwhile, he was on his feet and moving fast.

Except the elevator appeared to be on a go-slow…. The goddamned thing was taking forever; he should have just broken a window and jumped. His mood was vicious and he flung a punch into the unsuspecting doors of the elevator, creating a slight dent in the reinforced steel, but it wasn't as satisfying as he'd hoped and the pain in his hand did nothing to dull the hurt thudding in his heart. He could destroy the whole freaking building and he still wouldn't be satisfied.

The doors creaked in protest at their treatment but finally slid open into his office.

Harmony looked up, startled by the crash as the doors to Angel's office were flung wide and bounced on their hinges, briefly framing the dark, looming figure of her boss. He strode furiously through reception, whilst she watched, wide-eyed with apprehension. Words of denial were prepared and honed. No way was it her fault, whatever it was… She was interrupted before the first 'it wasn't me' could be dropped into the explosive atmosphere.

"Where is the little shit?"

"Boss?"

Harmony had been packing up to go home, and the way Angel was glaring at her she knew she should have been quicker. He spun on his heel, as though expecting to find his childe hiding amongst the **potted plants**.

"Spike! Where's he gone?"

Ah, Spike. Not her. Harmony relaxed again.

"He went that way" She waved vaguely towards the front door and then licked her lips as Angel turned to follow her gesture. "Uh… Did you know you have blood running down your neck? I guess I couldn't…"

She was no longer a year-old fledgling, but the powerful blood called to her. Her face flickered towards ridges and fangs, but settled back to human under the weight of his glare.

"No, I guess not."

She didn't even try to keep the disappointment and longing from her voice as she watched it go to waste, trickling down the back of his neck and staining the collar of his shirt a bright, vivid red. She pouted. Honestly, sometimes the boss could be so selfish. She was convinced that if it had been Fred who had been asking then he'd have let _her_ lick him clean. She gave a small huff of annoyance at constantly being overlooked and mistreated.

Angel ignored her and raced to the external doors, peering through the darkness, past the shiny W&H logo and expansive forecourt, to where he could make out a large black sedan. He pounded after it but it was already screeching away, leaving him to stare in disbelief as it disappeared into the distance. With his face unreadable and head hung low, Angel walked back to the building.

Harmony switched off her computer and pulled on her jacket. The silence seemed a little intense and she had the urge to lighten it somehow.

"So did you and Spikey have another fight? Is that why you're bleeding… **cus I can't help noticing that he's kinda winning most of your fights these days.**" She saw his face and decided she may have been tactless. "I mean, not that you couldn't beat him to a bloody pulp if you really wanted to."

"Harmony?"

He couldn't even look at her. There was viciousness rising inside that made the need to kill seem like an act of a mercy from a gentle soul.

"Yes, Boss?" she replied perkily.

"Go home. Now."

oooo

The car purred through the night with Spike seated in the back, the only hint of uncertainty he displayed was the incessant chewing of his bottom lip as he tried to pull together a plan from nothing, before deciding that the best plan was too play it by ear. After all, when it came down to it, he was stronger than Ghani. Also, part of him wanted to trust the man he used to know, give him the benefit of the doubt.

He'd go in take command and be the vamp he used to be. He began to add details. Start off in game-face…except that was exactly what the man wanted. Oh crap. Ok go in, be human and reasonable, appeal to Ghan's better nature…. He sighed, not even able to convince himself that this was a good plan. Maybe he should've just **let **Angel handle it his way.

He'd been trying to avoid all thought of his Sire, distracting himself by concentrating on his plan, instead of thinking **of** Angel lying prone on the floor of his apartment or awakening with a roar of disappointment and fury. He unconsciously began to worry at his nails.

Damn. Too late, that image of Angel was now lodged firmly in his head.

Spike was sure Angel would be reasonable once they'd sat down and calmly discussed the situation. Certain he would realise that Spike's only option was to cold clock him. The nails made it to his mouth and he began nibble at the edges.

Anyone would be able to see that it was perfectly reasonable that you tell someone you love him and then knock him unconscious. Especially when it was entirely for his own good, Hell, it was even possible that Peaches would be grateful…. Although Spike recalled the dark figure charging towards the car and had to admit that grateful wasn't the word that sprang to mind as he had focused on the irate face of his Sire. For a dead body, his insides were doing remarkably strange things as he recalled the look of distress and panic. Spike had had to fight the urge to leap out of the car, cradle him and tell him everything would be alright…

The car was slowing and turning. It hit a ramp and entered an underground garage. Spike pulled his fingers away from his mouth and affected a casual lounge as he splayed across the seat. These places were monitored and there was no way he was going to display weakness of any sort.

The door was opened for him and he emerged, uncurling his limbs with a lazy arrogance. Let the little bugger know what was what, right from the start. He looked around and then turned his gazed to the rather large uniformed driver. He raised his eyebrows in query.

"Well? Not here to admire bleedin'fucking garage am I?"

The man merely closed the door with a resounding thud, but made no other response. There was no need, a soft hiss as elevator doors opened, indicated his next move.

"Right. That my cue then?"

Again no response.

"Talkative bugger, ain't you?"

Not really expecting a reply at this stage, he squared his shoulders and stepped into the marble clad elevator, looking around with mild curiosity until the doors slid opened.

His mouth dropped, before he swallowed convulsively and took control of his hurtling stomach. The room was sparsely decorated, which admittedly, fashionable and all that, but the way it was themed made Spike fervently hope it was the product of a demented interior designer and not a statement of intent.

Ghan was standing to one side watching him carefully.

Spike stood his ground as though completely unfazed, the tilt of his head merely hinting at a touch of indifferent curiosity.

"So I was right first time, eh? Guess you're still kind of upset with me?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Ummm. Might be my mistake but the display of manacles, chains and… - bloody hell is that a scourge? – uh, kind of suggested you ain't entirely happy with me."

Somehow Ghan didn't look so boyish, there was something ancient and weary in his youthful face.

"Does it frighten you, Vampire?"

"Frighten? Yeah, right."

His expression gave this remark the contempt it deserved. He was a champion, who had chosen death and chosen torture, what else was left in this world that could frighten him?

"Losing Angel?"

His unspoken bravado garnered a soft reply and a stab of fear flashed through Spike like a skewer in his guts.

The quiet voice continued its velvety attack. "Or maybe a scorned lover?"

There was some kind of magic in those words. The word 'lover' drifted lazily through his head, coiling like smoke through his thoughts, but the fire for the emotion smouldering in a W&H penthouse, and he shook away the odd sensation like a dog flicking away flies from around its ears. He looked down and fought the feeling with memories of Angel, wishing he were back in the apartment, tasting honeyed words as they fell from the lips of his Sire.

Ghan's face distorted in annoyance and Spike felt as though he were wading out of his depths, the man he remembered wouldn't have used magic on him.

Sod it. A light of challenge sharpened blue eyes to full alertness and he finally stepped out from the doubtful protection of the elevator. A sneer curled his lips and twisted his features.

"Bring it on then."

The doors swished quietly close behind him and Spike suddenly felt dizzy as the world seemed to fade away.

oooo

Where the hell was Wesley? In his irritation it occurred to Angel that the man was deliberately ignoring the phone, maybe pretending he actually had a life. Deep breath, here he was…

"Hello. Wynd…"

"Wes? It's me. Need you back here. Now."

"Angel. I had a feeling I might be hearing from you…"

Then why the hell didn't you pick up?

"Oh? Anyway, I'm calling about…."

"Spike and Mede."

"Yeah. I need…."

"Us back there to trace where Spike has gone."

This was getting ridiculous!

"Yeah," Angel replied, distractedly running a hand through his already tousled hair, frowning as it occurred to him that Spike had been the one to muss his hair only moments earlier.

"Ok. One sec."

Now what?

"Fred's here with me now. We've been working on something that should help us trace him."

"Wes?"

"Yes, Angel?"

"You were prepared for this?"

"Well, yes."

"Why? I mean…. Why?"

"Really, Angel, do you need to ask? Well, obviously, you feel you do…. He's one of the team and we don't abandon each other."

Angel found himself swelling with affection for his people. Despite this emotion, he'd never felt more like a vampire in his life. A feral possessive**ness** coursed through his veins. His humans. His childe. And Mede a threat to them all. The heat of his anger dissipated and left behind cold calculation.

"Ok. How are you tracing him?"

"Actually, it was Fred's idea. You remember she carried out extensive tests on Spike when he was a ghost? What she actually found was his individual signature. Everyone emits there own combination of electromagnetic waves and subatomic particles, thanks to Fred's work, we have recorded Spike's own personal signature."

Angel may not have understood the science but his mind had caught the implication.

"So we just have to scan the city and home in on his signature?"

"Exactly."

"Will it take long?"

"We've already arranged everything we need. Fred is completing the initial scan now…. Oh my! This is good news. Turn on the computer, Angel and go to the shared drive."

"The shared…?"

"You remember? Fred networked us and gave us a shared drive? Go to the e: drive and open Spikesig.exe. We've managed to set the signal to display against a large scale map of L.A."

"Uh. I think this is it…"

Angel sat at his desk and watched in fascination as a small flashing light moved down the main arterial route in an unfamiliar part of the city.

"That flashing red light is him?"

"That's right. We have him." Wesley sounded triumphant.

They had come through for him. Angel could hardly believe it. He had an overwhelming compulsion to babble and thank them profusely, shower them in the warmth of his affection.

"Thanks Wes. Tell Fred, good work."

It was almost as if Wesley heard the more emotional response. He cleared his throat uncertainly.

"Oh well. Tell us that again when we've found him safe and well." His tone was one of carefully restrained pleasure.

Their attention was caught by the screen.

"They've turned off… into an apartment block."

"Underground parking?"

"I'd say so… Fred's looking up the name of the block."

They continued their avid surveillance.

"Why's he stopped moving, Wes?"

"The car has parked. There we go… he's on the move again."

"He's at a standstill again. That's weird, he's never still…."

"We think he's in an elevator. Ok. We're timing how long he's motionless and with any luck that should indicate which floor he's on."

Angel watched with rising hope. This was actually going to work….

Then the flashing light disappeared.

"Wes." His voice sounded remarkably calm. "What's happened? Has the program malfunctioned?"

"Just one minute…"

"No! Talk to me. What the hell is happening?"

It was too late. He heard the click of Wesley's receiver being laid to rest, leaving him twiddling with his pen as he waited impatiently.

"Angel there's no malfunction."

"No mal… Then what's happened?"

"We're not sure…. All we know is that he's simply not there any more."

oooo

Spike regained his balance, physically, if not mentally.

"What is this?" He looked around. "Uh…where is this?"

"Welcome to my home."

Ghan grinned at his confusion, making him feel as though he were the butt of a practical joke. Equilibrium quickly returned. He hated being laughed at.

"Ok. I'm guessing some kind of portal thingy when I stepped through the elevator doors. Clever."

"Very quick, Will."

Spike slowly spun around, taking in his surroundings. It was spartan but not in the same macabre way as the apartment. In fact it was surprisingly comfortable, maybe a little rough and homespun around the edges.

"So… home?"

"Yeah." Ghan glanced up with almost a shy look. "You're the first demon I've brought here."

"Uh huh. Nice. But I think its time we had our little chat. Like what the hell am I doing here?"

Ghan's features tightened slightly. They eyed each other warily, resentment riding high in both their minds. Spike finished his reccy, his demon senses passed the place as harmless and he relaxed a little, turning back to face the man.

"So? And you'd better make it damned good, cus I'm telling you. You're playing with fire, Mate."

"I'd be a bit more polite if I were you, William. You're here and dependent on my goodwill, are you sure you want to threaten me?"

"I'll tell you what I'd really like to do to you, eh?"

A low sub-vocal growl accompanied his words.

"Maybe it's time you remembered that I'm here to help you."

"Help? Not 'xactly what I'd call it. You've kidnapped me!"

"Vamp-napped."

"What?" Spike voice rose into the realms of incredulity. "You want to play word-games? Sorry, Mate, forgotten my Travel Scrabble."

"Don't be facetious. Isn't it odd?" Ghan raised his eyebrows. "I've planned for this moment and now that you're here I'm uncertain how to play this…."

"Not in the mood for playing. So… how about you tell me what's up and send me on my way?" Spike suggested, hope springing eternal in his demon heart.

"More or less what I had in mind."

"Right."

"So you wanna take your coat off?"

"Why?"

The edgy words were snapped out without thought, betraying his underlying anxiety.

"Just trying to make you comfortable in my home. Take off your coat. Sit on the couch, glass of whiskey, maybe a few snacks. Does that sound like torture?"

Every second away from Angel was torture and there was another train of thought he couldn't afford to buy into.

"Dunno…. What sort of snacks?"

Spike remembered the multicoloured piles of sugar and additives that the Whelp used to swear were full of nummy goodness and couldn't suppress a full body shudder.

"I was thinking buffalo wings and flowering onions…."

Blue eyes lit up.

"Yeah?"

"Yep."

Didn't sound like torture was particularly imminent, may as well play along with this house guest thing. He'd known that aggressive posturing wasn't Ghan's style. The duster was shrugged from his shoulders and Spike failed to notice how even this small reveal was watched with avid eyes.

They eventually settled down with glasses and plates, and slowly relaxed.

"Well, let's start with why you've brought me here, shall we?"

Ghan was watching in fascination as Spike licked his fingers clean of grease.

"Ghan?"

"What? Oh…. That's an easy one. Back in our world we're constantly monitored. No one has any idea that I have a retreat here, they believe I have sophisticated magic protecting my apartment. You realise that the Senior Partners have us all under constant surveillance?"

Spike considered this for a second. He hadn't realised.

"Well… I suppose it's no great surprise."

All the plans that he'd nearly spouted in the heart of W&H…. for once he was inordinately glad that Angel had pissed him off. At least he hadn't revealed the depths of his proposed machinations.

"I needed to talk where we couldn't be overheard and without raising suspicion. The apartment has basic surveillance barriers, but it's not foolproof."

"That sorcerer bloke of yours taught you a few tricks then?

"One or two."

"So what were all those threats about?"

"I had to make it believable that I wanted to see you and needed privacy, so I was mainly playing to the audience, not to you."

"Oh. Gotta admit I thought you were acting a bit odd."

"They can accept honest corruption, blackmail and self interest. As for torture? The Senior Partners believe a man should have a healthy hobby, so I perpetuate the idea of revenge and let them have their voyeuristic amusement as they imagine what I'm up to. I believe there are odds on whether you get out of here alive. They think I want the isolation in order to carry out some dirty little vengeance. Idiot demons."

"Oy! Demon here…"

"I hadn't forgotten, and like I said. Idiots. I mean, who the hell would ever leave me."

Spike thought he'd neatly avoided this conversation, obviously not.

"Look. About that…"

"No. I don't want 'sorry,' ok?"

"I wasn't going to… Well, yeah, I was. What did you expect? Evil right? Vampire. Human. Ain't gonna work, is it?"

"Will, I mean it. No need, ok? I knew how it was with your Sire and Dru. And I knew you were leaving."

"You did? I knew it! I told Peaches…."

"You discussed me with _him_?"

"Well, you were kinda threatening us, Pet."

"Ah well. Like I said, I needed my own cover. Besides which, I really don't like Angel."

Spike put down his empty whiskey glass and reached for his fags.

"Why not? He's one of the good guys." In the spirit of honesty Spike felt forced to qualify this. "Most of the time."

"Many reasons. Sure, he tries to be good but the thoughts he has inside are vicious and bloody…"

"Might just cus he's with you… dunno how to break it to you, but you're not exactly flavour of the month. Anyway, don't that just make the Ponce all the more remarkable, battling his own personal demon and fighting the good fight?"

The whiskey must have loosened his tongue, had he just called Angel remarkable…?

"I guess…. You know how it is Will, sometime two people just don't like each other and that's all there is to tell."

"Ok. I can accept that." He tactfully changed the subject. "So tell me about this place, is this where you stay?"

"Yeah. My master introduced it to me. It's a quiet backwater of a dimension. No one knows of it and there's no human or demon life here. It's what I need. The world drove me a little insane."

"Really?" Spike's ears pricked up at finding someone else who'd done insanity. "I'd have thought that mental stability would have to go with the job, else a bit of a dodgy choice for a judge, I'd imagine."

"Generally I'm solid, but you don't understand what it's like."

Spike's eyes narrowed and he blew out stream of cool, blue smoke.

"To go insane? See things that ain't there. Kill people and have no memory of it?" he queried.

"Ok, stop! You're making me nervous, Will. No I meant being able to read people's hearts."

Spike didn't even need to think, but grasped the point straight away.

"Oh yeah, I get that. What goes on in most people's head - bloody scary!"

Ghan smiled at his understanding.

"Most people think I have power because I know their most secret desires and all desire converges on me, but it doesn't make me powerful. It makes me the ultimate slave. A slave to blind and thoughtless need, with hardly a corner of my mind left to call my own.

"I can't turn it off, Will. Everyday people are crying out to me. When this 'gift' was first given to me, I wanted to help everyone. I became all things to all people, but it was impossible to live up to all those expectations. It never stopped and I could never stop. Where people had a need I had to fulfil it. I'm tough, I'm kind, I'm a lover and I'm the enemy, user and abuser, confider and confidante, as I fulfil their fractured need. That need tugged at me. I tried to pass them by. Lower my eyes and hunch into myself, but I was dragged back, forced to turn towards them. Chameleon-like I became the answer to their unspoken questions.

"Do you understand? I was torn into a thousand pieces of myself every single day, by selfish, needful people. I thought very soon I would be crazy, my identity lost, swallowed up whole and regurgitated into splintered images that wore my face.

"Luckily, my master noticed and brought me here. Now I only return when I need to. I realise you think me selfish, but it's a necessity. I need this wall that I surround myself with or they'll rip me to pieces again."

Spike found this a horrific way to live a life.

"Christ, Ghan! How could you bear spending two months with me?"

Brown eyes softened.

"You're different. You don't need me and desire nothing from me. Well, true, you did think I looked like a tasty meal…." he smiled in amusement, "but you let me be myself, taking me as I am and not as you'd like me to be. I'd almost forgotten such a thing could be."

Spike regarded him through the haze of tobacco smoke and recalled the time he'd first seen this beautiful man.

"Actually, I took you for a victim. Course, realised pretty sharpish that you weren't, then you became a mystery, I only knew victims, threats and family and you fitted none of them. I had to take a step backwards and watch you unfold…."

The whiskey set Spike's mind running at odd tangents.

"You know, you were the first human I accepted…. It's got me wondering if you paved the way for all the others, maybe without you I'd never have developed the potential."

Spike looked at him with new eyes. This wasn't just a two month shag, but someone who may have been pivotal to his current life.

"Did you know this, when you asked me to take you home? Did you know what you were doing to me?"

"No. I swear, Will. I just liked the way you stood back and let me be myself. It felt like freedom, after months of being chained and bound to images of myself. Most people are so anxious to categorise, to have you pinned out, neatly labelled and boxed, clipping your wings and caging your soaring flight. It's sad. Why do they do that? All those people struggling to be free of the ill-fitting mould they've been poured into, screaming, 'you have it wrong, this is not me at all!'

"Look at you, all leather and attitude, every pore screaming evil demon, which you are… except when you're not. So how do you convince someone that you have three dimensions, when they only see the two dimensional image that they have etched into their minds?"

"You go out and get a soul for them." Spike muttered.

Ghan cocked his head.

"Now I remember why I like you so much. You're an extraordinary demon…. I want to help you, Will. Can you trust me?"

Spike looked into intently honest eyes.

"I want to…."

Ghan nodded.

"Good enough. So let's talk about secrets and power."

"Can we get one thing straight first? All the torture paraphernalia is just for show, innit?"

"Uh. Not exactly. My cover depends on you turning up bloodied and injured in the morning. I mean, it's not the sort of thing you can really fake."

Ghan looked sheepish as Spike stared at him blankly.

"That's your plan? Have I mentioned that I hate it?"

"Nit-picking, Will. You said yourself that you've chosen torture before, when the stakes were high enough."

"I never said that! Ok, it crossed my mind, but sod nit picking, it's my ass on the line and this is a really crap plan. I got a better one. I kill you and manage to escape your evil clutches. That'll keep your frigging cover intact."

"I'm immortal, not sure if I can be killed. And hey, crap plans? Learnt at the knees of a master. If you can come up with anything better…."

"A blinkin' five year old could come up with better!"

Ghan flinched as the smouldering cigarette was waved dangerously in front of his face and pushed the arm away.

"Don't be such a baby. I won't hurt you much… Anyway, the information I have is worth your hide."

Spike squinted at him in suspicion.

"My hide? You ain't planning on flaying me too… are yer?"

"I don't know. I've never done torture before."

"Oh crap. Well stick to knives, lots of blood, cleaner and less painful than scourges and such like."

"I have some holy water…"

"Yeah, that's good too, and I can't believe I'm saying this, it's just… wrong. Anyway just don't pour the bloody stuff into any wounds, it can scar. That's how I got this…" He tapped his left eyebrow with its pronounced jagged cut. "The bint had dipped her sword in holy water. Yeah and you need to do something dramatic if you want to convince everyone it's for real."

Spike sighed and knew he was going to go through with the idiot plan. Providing the information was worth it. He gave up and stubbed out the smouldering fag end in his glass.

"Right. So you're saying that this goes further than you simply giving the gang a bad school report?"

"Further than you can imagine. I'm trying to stop the fat lummox killing you all."

"He's not fat, Pet. I guess you need to see him without his clothes to really appreciate him."

"Dammit, Will. You've put me right of my buffalo wings, and for the record? No more naked Angel images, ok? So, you admit he's a lummox then?"

"No! Well I dunno, what the hell is a lummox? I do know that he ain't gonna kill us. I don't believe it, you see, I trust him."

Mede sighed and took his hand.

"Ah, Will. There is so much happening and the gods know how it'll all fall out. But if they kill you…."

"Or Angel…"

"Told you before. I don't give a fig for him. It's his fault that you're in this situation."

"Ok Ghan, you've dropped enough hints. It's about time you started talking the talk."

Ghan eyed him speculatively, watching him bring a flame to flickering life as he lit up another cigarette.

"The Senior Partners are making advances to Angel. They don't actually trust him but the kudos of having him onboard is tempting them."

Spike had been pulling in his first gulping breath of nicotine and almost choked on it.

"What…! Angel would never accept anything they offered!"

"He's accepted their advances so far. Obviously they will test his loyalty on the way…."

"You can't know this… pure speculation… innit?"

"Who do you think I am, Will? I mean truly. There are no secrets in my world. Surely you know that by now."

"Angel's playing them," Spike said with certainty.

"For now, but how much longer do you think that will continue? Pretty soon they'll be looking for commitment. I came here curious to know what he was thinking."

"Huh, me and you both."

"He's playing the biggest game of his life. He wants to find out the real forces for evil in this world and destroy them. When you play big then the stakes are high and you have to prepare for a few losses on the way. He hasn't thought about who he's willing to sacrifice in order to win, but pretty soon he'll be making decisions that will put you all in jeopardy."

"Ok. Supposing I accept what you're saying, after all, Angelus always liked the big plays. This is the secret, that Angel is playing the Senior Partners?"

"I know you have it in your head to do the same thing, but forgive me if I say that I trust you more than I do Angel. I know you have your own ideas, but it's difficult to make any inroads in such a closed society, so I'm going to give you the heads up and maybe you **can** muddy the waters a little."

"Closed society? Who exactly are you thinking off?"

"The Senior Partner's representatives in this dimension."

Spike gave a low whistle.

"This changes the plan. I'd been thinking along the lines of subversion, but maybe, with Angel's known involvement he can be the diversion whilst I…."

"Or a two pronged attack…."

"Divide and conquer, make them each choose Angel or me…."

They grinned at each other, but Ghani's expression gradually changed.

"This is all very well, but if you don't succeed you die and if you do succeed they'll unleash hell to see you dead."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So this plan you come up with is kind of important."

They were silent for a while.

"So why are you helping us? I mean you work for Wolfram & Hart."

"They're fools. My master gave them the prophecy that I would be the razor that cuts both ways, and still they seek to use me against others. Judge not lest you be judged… I do judge them and I find them wanting."

"Right so they've been judged. It's all well and good but shouldn't they be struck down by lightening or something?" he asked, more in hope than belief. Things ain't ever that easy.

"Told you before that I don't kill, all I know is that eventually my judgement gets carried out."

"Eventually? Are we talking days or millennia here?"

"Somewhere in between? But it gives me faith that you might succeed. I hope the price isn't more than you can afford to pay."

"Can't 'xactly turn away now, can I? So what have you got for me?"

"You sure about this."

Spike took a deep breath, this was a turning point. Once the knowledge was shared, it couldn't be taken away. There would be no going back.

"No… but I need to know."

Ghan nodded his agreement.

"You remember I told you that before he died my master introduced me to the powers of this world?"

"Yeah…."

"They're pretty close to immortal. The names haven't changed that much in the last few hundred years. So William…."

He moved his hand casually to a denim clad thigh.

"Exactly what is this information worth to you?"

Blue eyes widened at this unexpected betrayal.

Ghan started to laugh.

"I'm kidding, if you could see your face, Will!"

Spike looked pained.

"Christ, Ghan if you knew what I had to walk away from to get here…"

Dark eyes seemed to stare through the vampire and then realisation hit.

"You knocked him out?" The man didn't try to hide his glee. "Good on you Will! I wish I could have seen it."

"No, I didn't! Well, yeah, but I had too… Bloody hell, this is all your fault, Ghan."

Spike looked a little sad. "You've read him. You think he'll be upset?"

"Yeah, but he'll get over it, just give him a century or two."

"Huh."

Spike sighed and supposed that he'd just have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

"So names."

"Yes, names. Then I guess we'd better return to my apartment."

"The night must be nearly over."

"About that… time moves differently here. Maybe half an hour has passed back in our world."

"Oh. That's good. I mean if it was the other way around and days had passed back there…." He thought of Angel's reaction. After all the years of indifference, it seemed incredible that Angel would actually miss him….

"Angel would be killing himself with worry."

Spike frowned, unsure how he felt about that. He was veering wildly between pleasure and distress.

"So. How's your memory, Will?"

So this was it.

"Good enough. Hit me."

"Cyvus Vail, the Grand Arch Duke Sebassis, the Grand Potentate of the Fell Brethren, Senator…."

oooo

"Judging by the average speed of a lift then we think that Spike went to the top floor."

They walked across the street and approached their destination. Angel eyed the building.

"How do we get in?"

It was Fred who answered.

"I did a bit of research, you know, through local realtors and there's a private elevator, much like your one, but it can only be operated with a code or internally from inside the apartment. There is also an emergency staircase, but again you need a key or a code."

"In that case, I'll have to leave you here."

"Why? What you going to do?"

Angel looked up at the walls of the building searching for the best route.

Fred caught his intense scrutiny and realised his intention.

"Oh Lord! Be careful won't you?"

He nodded, was about to move but then suddenly turned. He swallowed loudly and asked the dreaded question. "Is he still alive?"

"I… can't say. It seemed like he entered the apartment and it was as if a door slammed shut on him."

"There may be wards on the apartment, blocking all surveillance," Fred added.

Angel grasped at this comfort.

"So he'll be there you think?"

"I don't want to get your hopes up, but it's very possible," Wesley replied gently.

Possible wasn't the same as certain. His face was a motionless mask as he walked away. He had no sense of Spike in this world and yet he daren't think the worse, he needed to keep functioning. He kept his thoughts linear. Make the first leap. Climb the building. Break in to the apartment. Find Spike…. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. And made his first leap.

The two humans watched as Angel became nothing more than a shadow amongst shadows.

"I don't think we're really needed," Fred said with a rueful smile.

"We might be… if there's a pile of dust outside the elevator."

Fred blinked rapidly at the harshness of the image.

"Don't Wes. Don't even think it."

He reached out and took her hand.

Angel scaled the building, using every ounce of speed and skill he possessed, until he was finally standing on the roof. He quickly spotted the roof access door, broke the lock and went down the steps leading to the top storey. He was so close now.

He breathed deep and the coppery smell of blood hit his sensitive nostrils. He'd recognise this particular scent anywhere, probably caused it to flow more times than enough.

Spike.

If there was fresh blood then he hadn't died. Angel sagged slightly, hardly daring to believe it. His thoughts no longer ended with finding Spike, there was life beyond it. He straightened up. There was no time for this unmanly weakness. His childe was alive and hurting.

He used all his strength to kick down the door and then heard that despised voice.

"Angel? Dramatic as always. The door was unlocked."

He roared, flew towards the doorway… and bounced back again.

"The door's unlocked but I need some protection, obviously."

Angel shook his head back to human, hardly realising that the furious demon had taken over. He prowled towards the doorway with its invisible barrier. Oh Jeez! It was a torture chamber. And Spike was hanging there, his T-shirt ripped off and his exposed torso showing signs of deep cuts.

"Isn't he precious? If I'd known you wanted to watch I'd have sent out an invitation."

Angel was silent as he took in the scene.

"And hey, I've got myself a new bracelet." He held out a wrist to show off a strip of bloodied white skin tied around it. "Vampire-hide bracelets," his hand began to caress Spike's bared skin, "do you think they'll catch on?"

"I'm going to kill you." Angel told the man calmly.

"Not possible."

"I'll make you wish you were dead."

"No you won't."

Mede flashed a knife in the air.

"He gave me his mark." The man's hand went to a faint scar on his neck. "Maybe I'll do the same for him?"

The knife began to cut into Spike's lower back. Spike convulsed at the touch, but not a sound issued from his mouth.

"I'm going to carve my name into his flesh, Angel. How will you feel, each time he turns around, seeing my name scarring his perfection? How can he ever be yours if he carries my mark?"

Angel gave a nasty laugh, the human was so stupid.

"He'll be healed by tomorrow."

Ghan smiled in the return.

"Not if I pour this over the cuts." He held out a jug containing clear liquid. "Holy water. Keep still!" This last was directed to Spike who had begun to struggle at the words. This was not part of the deal!

"So, we'll strike a bargain. I'm growing bored with him anyway. He refuses to scream. I'm going to let you enter if you promise this is an end to it all. Spike and I are quits and we don't want you interfering, so take him and go. By the way there are public swimming baths across the street…. Maybe if you're real quick…."

Mede had finished scribing his name in elegant letters onto bloody, red skin. To better see his work he washed away the blood with his jug of water and then watched in shock as the skin began to bubble and smoke. Oh gods! Had he used too much? Spike screamed in agony and the man hastily undid the chains.

"So do you agree?" he managed to keep the shake from reaching his voice.

Angel was watching in utter horror.

"Jeez! Yes, I agree! I agree, ok?"

The barrier fell and Angel hurtled through the door and swept up his childe, cradling the writhing body against his chest, with no regard for the pain of the holy water as it sizzled against his own skin. Leading with his right shoulder, he ran to the window and crashed through without pause.

Ghan watched the pair of them disappear through the shattered window with a feeling of thankful relief. At least his reading of Wesley had been correct, and the rescue of Spike had been to schedule. He looked down at the blood on his hands and the ribbon of skin that Spike had persuaded him would make a dramatic statement when worn on his wrist. He thought of his clever addition to their plan, using holy water to gain Angel's compliance…. and began retching uncontrollably as his stomach heaved. He wiped at his mouth.

Spike was right. Over all it had been a really crap plan and he could only hope the information he'd given was worth it.


	9. Part 9

So… finally have a bit of time to pull a few chapters together, if anyone remembers the story that is? More chapters to follow shortly…

Summary: Secrets and lies, and Spike has a plan…

Warning: Strong language and a touch of religion, if it's going to offend please don't read.

Feedback: Please let me know what you think…

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to Stars for her fantastic support and the beta, all mistakes due to after-beta tinkering! And, of course, thanks for the feedback and comments, I do appreciate it.

**Part 9**

Wesley and Fred were alerted by the sound of shattering glass as it broke and crashed to the sidewalk, and glancing up they could just make out a shadow of a figure flying through the air, holding tight to his irritating, annoying, occasionally violent and incredibly precious bundle. They raced towards the source of the noise, but Angel had hit the ground running, scenting the air for water, relieved to find that the man hadn't been lying. He smashed his way through, following the scent of chlorinated, humid air, whilst Spike clung to him, face buried in his Sire's shoulder to silence his cries of agony. They were finally swallowed by the welcoming coolness and relief washed over them like the cool water that bathed their reddened, smoking skin.

Stripping off his own coat and shirt and throwing them to the side of the pool, Angel finally released Spike, who reluctantly relaxed his own grip and let the depths of the pool receive his bloodied offering, until Angel pulled him back, silvery droplets spraying around him, as he crashed through the surface.

Angel was turning him, examining him, assessing the damage and weighing up the debt that Mede would sometime pay. Letters flamed livid across Spike's skin.

Spike heard the low growl and, blinking blearily, feared the worst.

"Jesus, the little sod's disfigured me, ain't he?"

Angel's emotions towards his Childe were vacillating between anger and relief, and his answer fell between comfort, anger and concern.

"He could have killed you! What the hell were you thinking? I'm not having his name carved into my childe, so if you are scarred, I'll flay the damned thing off and douse the whole lot with holy water."

Seemed that Angel was a tad upset, so much for being grateful.

"Cheers. Remind me never to come to you for reassura... Ow!"

Water sluiced over the scored skin, where supernatural healing was already working its miracle on the deeply damaged tissue. Angel frowned. It was too soon, the cuts needed to be cleansed first.

"Hang on to the side. I'm going to open up the wounds."

Preternatural nails, designed for ripping into victims, sliced into already torn flesh and set the blood flowing again, washing out any remnants of holy water from the gashes. Spike clenched his teeth and gripped the poolside as advised; convinced that Angel was punishing him by deliberately making it more painful than necessary.

Then he felt the soft tongue working its way into cuts, probing for the burn that indicated any lingering traces of holy water. Gradually, he relaxed into the soothing motion of tongue on skin, resting his cheek on his hands and closing his eyes. The trauma was over for the night and he was right where he wanted to be. Back with Angel.

Angel appeared to sense the change in the body beneath his mouth and, even though the initial fiery taste had been cleansed away, he continued his ministrations, delighting in the purity of blood as it rolled slowly over his tongue, enervating each cell. He had the urge to tear a gaping wound and bury his face in the bloody morass, swallow it, coat his face and body, like some tribal warrior absorbing the spirit of a slain lion, so Angel would absorb into himself everything that was Spike, steal it all, blood, heart and soul, drenching himself in blood and satisfying his demon need to take and own.

He watched eyes drift shut and felt Spike relax to his touch, a hint of a purr in his breath.

Leaning back he surveyed his handiwork, satisfied to see that the skin was once again pale with only the scarlet slashes, standing stark against their pale canvas. His jaw clenched in anger.

"Where did he take the strip of skin from?"

Spike opened his eyes.

"Chest."

"Turn around."

Spike obediently turned, to reveal the missing ribbon of skin.

Blue eyes flickered to his. "Well?"

Turning his thoughts from imagining what he'd eventually do to Mede, Angel began examining the wounds, peering closely before tracing along the raw, bleeding flesh with his tongue.

Spike watched the delicate gesture, fascinated by the odd gentleness he exhibited, despite the anger he was clearly feeling. There was so much to still learn about his Sire and for the first time in a long time, he looked to the future with anticipation, regretting none of the night's activities or decisions if it helped ensure that they actually had a future to look forward to.

Angel was satisfied the cuts were uncontaminated.

"It's clean. It'll heal as normal."

His face lifted from the chest and they both seemed to realise how close they were. Almost nose to nose. Lips nearly brushing skin. Burning intensity in their eyes.

Spike caught his breath. It almost hurt to realise how much he loved this man, he suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable. What did he know of love, except jealousy, suffering, ridicule and derision? He knew his faults and this was one of them; he didn't know how to love by halves. Recollection of previous loves stoked the embers of his memory back to scorching brightness. The glare pained him and he shrank away from them.

Angel watched the changing expressions, the uncertainty and the subsequent retreat, and guessed some of what was passing through his head.

"The difference is that I love you too."

And Spike was Mulder and Scully rolled into one, desperately wanting to believe, but a cynical edge told him such a thing was impossible.

"Yeah, cus I'm so bloody loveable, ain't I?"

"Yes, you are."

Spike closed his eyes in denial, but Angel was insistent, placing soft kisses on delicate eyelids.

"Ghan said that you thought you had no choice. I'm the only one available to you. You said it too."

"You're irritating. You're belligerent. But you're also brave, funny and clever. Actually, you're kind of beautiful. So, maybe it's true, I don't have a whole lot of choice, but it just so happens that I love you."

Spike pouted.

"He said that if you had a choice, you wouldn't choose me."

Suddenly his wrists were caught in an iron grip. Angel stroked them gently with his thumbs before pinioning them, holding Spike immobilised against the side of the pool, moving closer, until Spike's smaller body was trapped by 182 pounds of wet, muscular vampire.

"What the hell does he know? He's just jealous… Jesus, Spike. Why did you do it? Why did you go to him?"

The breath of the words breezed against Spike's skin, but he still somehow found the strength to raise his eyes defiantly.

"Lotsa reasons."

It was Angel's turn to grit his teeth.

"Try one."

The truth was blurted out before he had time to think of a convincing lie.

"You were in danger, you weren't gonna listen to me and time was running out."

"So you just decided…"

Spike had found that sometimes attack was the only form of defence.

"Yeah, Angel, I just decided. S'wot I do, ok? You still see yourself as the almighty Sire and me as your little fledgling, leaping to your commands. Do you know how long I've been by myself? Not just me, but me and my insane Dru. You know how we survived? Gut instinct, yeah? And me, fighting for our lives every single night. I'm not a fledge; haven't been one for a long time. Master vampire, right? And sometimes I'll have to make decisions that you're not gonna agree with, but maybe eventually you'll trust me enough just to go with it."

Angel frowned.

"When did you ever leap to obey my commands?"

"What?"

"You said…."

"I know what I bloody well said! Ain't yer kinda missing the point of my little speech?"

"I don't think so. I'm just pointing out, it's all bullshit. You never obeyed a single word I said, unless it suited you."

"Well…."

"One occasion? Name just one occasion."

Spike thought for a second and then shook his head.

"And this is so far from the point. I was just saying I was sorry."

"No, you weren't, you were telling me why everything is my fault. As usual."

Angel's body was now leaning heavily over the slighter figure, but Spike refused to give an inch.

"Yeah, I was wasn't I? Well, it is your fault…"

A small explosive sound issued from Angel's mouth and the emotion and warmth that had been riding high transfigured into frustration and anger.

"I wasn't the one playing baseball with my head and a freaking cat goddess!"

Contrition didn't sit well with Spike, but there it was anyway, pulling up a seat and making itself at home. There was no question that hitting Angel over the head was clearly justified, but he was kinda uncomfortable with having to keep secrets and the problem was, he had no idea how to pass vital information to Angel without informing those who watched.

"Believe me if there had been another way…."

"You'd probably still have hit me over the freaking head!"

But despite the words, the anger was dissipating. Undoubtedly Spike had meant well, and he looked so injured and so damned sorry for himself. Even though Angel knew it was probably just a pose to deflect any harsh words, he couldn't prevent his eyes softening as Spike tilted his head slightly, which was all the invitation needed to move forward and claim his mouth, pressing his lips against Spike's, tasting the nicotine that lingered, together with an undercurrent of… whiskey and onions?

What the hell? His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What exactly happened tonight?"

Spike froze. Was Angel a mind reader? Had he been sussed already? He aimed for an expression of wounded innocence and immediately regretted it. His Sire hadn't fallen for that one in aeons, and by the look on his face he wasn't going to start now. Fortunately, he was saved from answering.

"Angel? Are you there?" The voice rang out over the water.

Angel grimaced, reluctantly allowing Spike his freedom.

"We'll talk later," he warned.

Spike rolled his eyes. Wasn't that just what he needed, a suspicious Angel badgering him.

"Yeah? I'm really looking forward to that. Not."

They levered themselves out of the water like pale seals, as though they didn't have the weight of the water dragging them down. Angel grabbed his discarded clothes.

"Wes! Fred! We're here."

The words echoed in the cavernous space.

"Is Spike…? Oh thank God! Spike, are you alright?"

"Angel. We have to go. The building's alarm has been triggered."

Spike seemed to be reeling slightly. Fred had been about to hug him, but as she touched his back he gasped in pain and she realised her hand was sticky with his blood.

"Oh Lord! What's happened to you? Are you alright? Can you walk?"

He'd lost a large amount of blood. "I guess."

Angel nodded, then swept him up anyway and began to jog back to the car.

"Hey! I said…."

"I know what you said, but you know? I've survived 300 years and sometimes I just have to make my own decisions. It's what I do, ok?"

Spike's eyes widened.

"You taking the piss out of me, Mate?"

"You bet."

Wesley and Fred were running alongside.

"Really! Don't you two ever stop with the violence and the arguments?" Wesley demanded.

"Uh huh. There was a period. It lasted about twenty-four hours." Angel nodded.

"Back in 1880, before I knew him properly." Spike confirmed.

"Leave them be, Wes. There's more than one way of flirting…"

"Flirting…!"

"No way…!"

She hastily cut through their sputtering indignation.

"Sorry. I meant relating. There's more than one way for people to relate."

She looked particularly wide-eyed and innocent as she explained her mistake, and Wesley was hard put to hide his smile.

They reached the car and piled in, with Fred and Wes in the back, Angel driving and Spike riding shotgun.

"You are a mischievous minx." Wes whispered to Fred, who merely blinked and returned her most ingenuous look. Wesley shook his head in mock condemnation. "I recognise that look… you, my girl, have been spending far too much time with Spike."

Spike was looking increasingly pained and Angel's concern was voiced by the car as it screeched through the night. Spike glanced at his forbidding features and sought to lighten the atmosphere.

"So is the bint right? You bin flirting with me for the past one hundred years?" he whispered.

Angel played along, hoping to distract Spike from the pain.

"Let's see… who knocked who out this evening? Who ran who through with hot pokers, and isn't that looking more and more Freudian? Who always has to argue with every word I say?"

"Dunno… but someone obviously fancies you a lot to be flirting that much…."

Angel almost grinned at the thought of Spike fancying him, but then realised that his manipulative childe was probably just trying too soften him up.

"Maybe, but we're still gonna have that talk later."

Spike sank into his seat, feeling crushed by the weight of his secrets

oooo

He'd been washed, trussed up in bandages and was now allowing Fred to fuss over him. Wesley brought him blood. Angel stood silently watching.

"I ain't comfortable," he complained petulantly.

"Well no wonder! Y'all messed up back and front. Maybe if you tried lying on your side. Here I'll get a couple more pillows to support you." Fred grabbed them from Angel's side of the bed.

Angel still said nothing.

"Are you ok?" Wesley approached the brooding figure.

A small nod was the only answer. Wesley found himself feeling immensely sorry for him.

"He's ok now," he softly reassured.

"Yes," Angel replied, his voice husky and strained. "He is."

"But you thought he was gone."

The bleakness in his dark eyes was the only reply his friend needed.

Wesley put a comforting hand to his arm. "You're probably feeling it more now that the immediate threat is over. It's normal, you realise?"

Wes's sympathy encouraged Angel to speak aloud his turbulent thoughts.

"Part of me wants to lock him away so that he's never in danger again but another part wants to beat him senseless."

"Again, I'm sure that's a normal reaction." Wesley smiled slightly. "I don't hold out much hope of anyone keeping him out of trouble."

It occurred to Angel that he could ensure precisely that by incarcerating him next to Pavayne. The idea held some appeal, except that would isolate Spike and the idea was quickly trashed when Angel realised that it would prevent him holding his childe ever again.

"So you think I should go for the beating senseless option?"

Angel's face remained serious, but after all these years, Wesley was discovering an uncanny ability to read this taciturn vampire and kept his own face similarly bland, merely nodding.

"You're generous."

Angel raised his eyebrows in query.

"In assuming that there's some sense in there to beat out."

Angel's mouth twitched in response and his shoulders relaxed slightly. They stood in silence for a minute, as though mourning those already lost. Angel finally broke it.

"Thanks, Wes."

Wesley gently smiled. Angel asked for so little, it felt good to be able to give something to him, even if it was nothing more than a speck of understanding and a smidgeon of sympathy.

"You're very welcome."

Fred took the empty mug away to wash, whilst Spike wriggled restlessly, trying to find a way to lie that didn't exacerbate his injuries. As he watched, Angel could feel that strange warmth filling his body, heating him almost to humanity. Spike turned and caught his gaze as though he knew what Angel was feeling and then grinned.

"You look like a drowned rat, Luv."

Angel glanced down self-consciously. One hand plucked miserably at his Armani pants, now reduced to a wet shapeless rag, whilst the other flew to his hair. Spike watched his predictable reaction with swelling affection.

"Go shower, yeah?"

Angel hesitated for a moment, but Spike read his concern.

"I'll be here, I ain't going anywhere,"

A small nod and Angel reluctantly left.

Spike watched his retreating back and felt a nagging guilt that he'd caused his Sire so much anxiety. No. Balls to that. He'd done the right thing and he wasn't going to regret it. He searched around for a distraction and glanced at Wesley speculatively.

"Oy, Percy. You know a lot of stuff."

Wesley pulled himself up to his full height and gave a self-effacing smile.

"Well, I wouldn't say 'a lot'. Although I do like to think that I…" he began modestly.

"'Xactly. You like to think. So, why holy water?"

"I beg your pardon?" Wes moved across to the bed.

"Well vampires, bin around forever, yeah? Christianity, only two thousand years old… so why crosses and holy water?"

"Actually, that's an interesting point." Wesley looked thoughtful. "Vampires have a strong culture of mysticism, I'm sure they'd be attracted to such an influential figure. My personal guess would be that a vampire attempted to taste the blood of Christ, possibly at the crucifixion itself. The mixture of blood and power must have been an irresistible combination."

"All those bloody vampires who claim to have been there, I suppose it makes sense that one of the wankers really was…. So your theory is that a vampire maybe tried to take a bite out of the wrong person and cursed us all?"

"It must be something like that for vampires to be so closely connected to the symbols of Christianity."

Spike nodded thoughtfully.

"I've got another idea…."

"Really?"

Wesley was curious. He couldn't recall ever having such a sensible discussion with Spike before.

"Yeah. It's obvious, innit? He was a vampire."

And clearly, he wasn't going to have one now.

"You're seriously suggesting that Jesus was a vampire?"

"Uh huh. That explains the obsession with blood and flesh. Oh, and the resurrection. Raising Lazerus from the dead? And healing the crippled?"

"So let me get this right. Not only was he a vampire, he was also turning everyone he met?"

"Yeah."

"The disciples?"

"Vampires, obviously."

Wesley shook his head and Spike sensed he was losing the vote in this debate.

"Why would he be preaching love and turning the other cheek if he were a vampire? You and Angel are good, but you're still rather attached to bloody violence and vengeance."

Spike refused to be daunted.

"Perhaps he was subtle. A new religion naturally means new things to fight about. New wars, violence and mayhem."

"No, that argument really doesn't hold water. If it wasn't religion we'd find something else to fight about."

Spike nodded, acknowledging the point.

"Such as which end of a soft boiled egg should be cracked open?"

"Exactly."

Wesley smiled at the literary reference. He shouldn't be surprised by Spike. He knew by now that there was more to him than met the eye… well hit the eye and punched it black and blue. Yet still somehow he couldn't help subconsciously classing him as a non-educated delinquent and was consistently startled when Spike proved he was actually an educated delinquent.

"Still think there's something in it." Spike obstinately stuck to his bizarre theory.

"Well, it's certainly an interesting and original idea. Maybe even worth investigating further."

Spike frowned. He'd only thought of it to wind up his fellow Englishman by way of a distraction.

"Yeah?"

"Certainly."

There was a hint of a smile on the man's face and Spike was left uncertainly considering who was winding up whom….

They both looked around as the door opened.

"Ah, Fred. I think it's time we left. Can I give you a ride back to your apartment?"

"Sure," she smiled and then turned to Spike. "Anything else before we leave?"

"Nah, but thanks for everything, Pet. You kiddies run on home. I'll catch yer both later."

When Angel emerged, Spike was frowning and deep in thought.

"Peaches?"

"Yes?"

Spike wanted to talk? Maybe they were finally going to get to the truth about the night, without having to go through the whole interrogation thing.

"Was Jesus a vampire?"

Oh. He guessed it was too much to have hoped for.

"Jeez, Spike. Just go to sleep!"

Spike obediently shut his eyes, but everything else shouted a troubled mind, his fingers were tapping, and the covers were continually twitched.

Angel sighed.

"No. Ok?"

Eyes peeked open once more.

"How do you know?"

"Sermon on the Mount, Palm Sunday, crucifixion? All happened in sunlight."

"But maybe…."

"No. A day on the cross? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't remember the story of the good centurion who shaded him from the sun."

"Maybe it was cloudy…." He tailed off, reluctant to let go of a good theory, but had to admit it had been blown out of the water.

Silence filled the room and they became aware that they were finally alone. Spike wondered whether to feign sleep. He was hurt and tired and confused. Maybe the best tactic would be to play the sympathy card. He moved, as if trying to get comfortable, winced and groaned.

"It ain't healing properly, is it? I'm gonna be friggin' scarred for unlife." His voice rose querulously from the nest he'd made.

Angel came forward, sitting on the side of the bed and running his hand over bandages that were showing signs of seeping blood.

"Maybe."

"Shit."

Not the reassurance and comfort he'd been angling for.

Angel finished drying himself and slipped under the covers. Spike turned and threw him the pillows that Fred had so carefully arranged around him. Now there was nothing between their naked bodies, which Spike would normally have found rather interesting, and it was an indication of just how distracted and weary he was that not a single salacious thought entered his head.

Angel indicated the pillows. "You don't want them?"

"Nah."

"Then why…?"

"You know how it is? Bint likes to feel useful."

"Huh. So what happened with Mede?"

"I'm knackered, Pet. We'll talk about it tomorrow, yeah?"

"At least tell me, is he still threatening us?"

"No. You heard him. We're quits. Nothing to worry about, his report to the Senior Partners will be gen."

He sensed that Angel wasn't ready to give in and wondered if perhaps he could be sidetracked, Wesley had been fairly easy to draw in, even if he did end up turning the tables on him.

Angel settled back, certain that Spike was hiding something, and then became distracted as he felt Spike lay a pale, cold hand on his chest, nail bitten fingers splayed across the perfect skin.

Angel frowned. It didn't feel like seduction, Spike appeared to be considering something.

"Now what?"

"How come you're unscarred?"

"I had no cuts when I picked you up."

"No. I mean that time we captured you, and Dru played out her little games with the knives and holy water."

Angel glanced down at his unmarred chest.

"Huh. I'm not sure…."

"You know what I think?"

"No, but I'm guessing I'm going to."

"I think it was your soul. It made you something other than demon, yeah?"

Angel found the comment remarkably perceptive.

"You think the Powers recognised something good in me?"

"Makes sense don't it? Part demon, part human. Perhaps the first reaction to our demon bodies is to burn, but then as it works it way in, it discovers our souls…."

The thought of such fundamental recognition of his underlying humanity, was strangely comforting. To be seen as something other than demonic after all he'd done in his life made him feel remarkably humble.

He returned his gaze to his pale Childe, wanting to talk some more about the night, what they'd done, what they felt… wanting to hold him again. He tentatively reached out, but felt Spike's muscles tensed to his touch. Angel apologised, thinking he'd grazed one of his injuries.

Spike felt drained, having already lost a night and a half to Angel's few hours. Then there was the responsibility Ghan had placed on his shoulders. He felt kind of lost. Course, nothing he couldn't handle, but even so, what the hell was he supposed to do with all this knowledge?

The brush of Angel's hand melted him and made him feel peculiarly defenceless. It was too pathetic, he was the Big Bad and here he was, wanting nothing more than to curl up with his Sire and blurt out all his secrets… which made this situation all the more dangerous. Angel could cut through his defences like a hot knife through butter. So when Angel touched him he could neither refuse him nor allow himself to respond, resulting in him laying stiffly, cold body as motionless as a stone effigy, carved on the lid of a tomb.

"Hey, I'm sorry."

Why was Angel apologising? Of course, he ought to be apologising because whatever it was, it was definitely his fault…

"What?"

"I…" Angel wanted the easy intimacy they'd had that evening, before it had all turned upside down. He wanted to feel that he could just reach out and hold his Childe, but something in Spike's attitude held him back.

"I forgot you were hurt."

Spike shut his eyes. This was more difficult than he ever imagined. How could he keep secrets if Angel was touching him, loving him, trusting him, and reading every little lie, or worse, swallowing every untruth that Spike told? He'd just have to try to keep his distance, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Yeah well, I haven't forgotten. Just don't touch me, ok?" The strain made him sound harsh and cross.

A confused frown stamped itself on Angel's features. Maybe Spike was anxious and this was making him defensive. The more he thought about it the more certain he became that Spike was merely trying to deflect anger with his own surliness. He stared at the ceiling for inspiration and took a breath.

"I admit, I'm angry with you. You make it damned difficult for anyone to love you… but you know I do, don't you? I know that you thought you were doing what was right. I understand that you've been making decisions for yourself and that life has been tough. But you're not by yourself anymore. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. You can trust me, Spike. Do you want to tell me what happened tonight?"

There was no reply. Angel glanced across to find that Spike had drawn a veil over the day and was sleeping like the dead. The frown dug its way deep into the muscles of his face and settled in for the night.

oooo

Angel's sleep was troubled and he awoke a few short hours later. He looked to the other side of the bed, where the first thing he didn't see was Spike. His guts clenched in fear.

"Hey. I'm here."

Spike was sitting on the floor, unwinding the bandage from his torso.

"Couldn't sleep… you know what it's like with the healing, makes yer skin crawl, like you're being eaten alive by midges." He turned his back. "Whaddya think?"

"Ummm…." Angel was lost in a morning fog and couldn't quite figure out what Spike was asking as he stared at him. He licked his lips. "You look good."

"So I won't be wearing this name permanently then? Cus I 'ave to say, if I were making a fashion statement I'd rather have a piercing."

Angel's mind, which was running along a slightly different track, was immediately taken with this image, but needed more detail to complete the picture that was coalescing in his imagination.

"Where?"

Spike twisted around, his dissatisfied pout now curled into amusement.

"Ohhh! Hit a kink have I?"

"I…. Uhhh….." Angel almost blushed.

"Never mind, Luv. We'll explore it later, yeah? But how's me back looking?""

Angel finally caught on to the question. Truthfully, it was still looking a bit raw around the edges.

"Well, we'll know by the end of the day. Turn around, let's see your chest."

"That's not a problem."

It shouldn't be. Ghan had wussed out half way through and had been in danger of making a right pig's ear of it, so it ended up with Spike finishing the job himself.

It had faded to a pale, pink line and Angel agreed with the prognosis.

He began moving around the room, picking out and discarding clothes before finally deciding on dark slacks, dark jacket and dark shirt. He turned and glared challengingly at Spike, daring him to criticise his morning ritual. Spike merely rolled his eyes but refrained from commenting, and Angel relaxed once more.

"What are you doing today? Are you going to stay here and rest?"

Spike had been thinking all night what he should do next and had come up with a plan of attack. It seemed to him that Cyvus Vail could be a weak link. He would almost certainly have judged Angel as deeply flawed, having already successfully manipulated Angel, using his son as leverage.

Spike remembered when he'd first heard about Angel and his son. Rumours had been springing up around the Company like wildfire. Naturally he'd thought it was all bullshit, until he'd finally gotten the whole story out of Fred, and frankly, at the time, it had merely fuelled his resentment of Angel.

First a soul, then the love of the Slayer and now a child.

A suggestion of jealousy had reared its ugly head. Spike had fought and struggled for everything he had gained, whilst Angel was handed it all on a plate… even a child. He'd never heard of vampires producing a human child, it was something that Spike had never thought of aspiring to, and acknowledged that it was the one place he could never follow. So there it was. Bloody typical. Angel got the prize. Again. Quite what all these rewards were for he never could figure out.

Yet it seemed a backhanded kind of accolade. To see eternity reflected in the eyes of his baby and then lose it all, to have all hopes and dreams ripped away and returned to him in the form of a twisted nightmare…. Gradually Spike realised he didn't envy his Sire quite so much. He was nothing more than a pawn being tossed around by the gods. Whereas Spike had forged his own destiny, fought the world and made it meet him on his own terms.

Jealousy was long gone and now all that was left was a determination that Angel wasn't going to be used up and swallowed down in some eternal balancing act between good and evil. Let someone else feed that particular monster. His Sire had done enough. Lost enough.

"Spike?"

"Nah. Got stuff I want to do."

"Like what?" Again suspicion was clear in Angel's voice.

"Got a new job, important to settle in, innit? Anyway, got a plan forming." He tapped the side of his head. "Just need to work out the details."

Spike had a plan. God forbid…

"You're not by yourself, Spike. We're a team. Maybe we can help."

But Spike knew this was exactly it. He was by himself, thanks to Ghan and his secrets. Besides which, Angel was a fine one to talk about anyone acting on their own, considering the deals he was currently attempting to broker.

Angel read the denial, Spike did still feel alone.

"Why won't you trust me? I thought things had changed between us?" Angel's voice was hesitant, wondering if the night before had been nothing more than an insane dream.

Spike couldn't afford to dwell on such things.

"I dunno… it all happened a bit sudden like…."

"Sudden!" A bleak laugh followed this and Spike actually blushed. "So? What was it? All lies? You thought you'd play me?"

The hurt was carried in every painful syllable.

"And sod you! You think I'd lie about stuff like that?"

"You did what you thought you had to, and now we're safe, everything should be easy. Instead….What's going on? What did that man do? What did he say? Don't shut me out, Will."

The look in those eyes was damned near breaking Spike's heart and he didn't know what to do or say.

"I can't do this now."

He turned away and entered the elevator, where he was joined before the doors could shut. Angel stared at his expressionless face.

"I will find out what's going on."

Spike was determined that he'd find a way to share with Angel, he couldn't live with this barrier between them.

"I'm counting on it, Pet."

On this enigmatic note he left.

oooo

Angel was sitting quietly in his office, his head bowed and his eyes blank. He looked up as Spike came through the door.

"What do you want?"

"Can I borrow a car?"

"Why?"

"Uh. Cus I need to go out?"

Angel had a thought.

"Sure, no problem."

Spike looked stunned by the unexpected acquiescence.

"Ok then. I'll be off."

He seemed to be lingering, probably had his stupid reasons all prepared, well Angel wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. He merely nodded and returned to work.

Spike was deeply confused. He'd been subtly trying to raise his Sire's suspicions, maybe tempt him into following and that way let him discover what was going down without appearing to be in league with him.

Except he refused to rise to the bait - typical, just when Spike thought he knew him, Angel would throw him a googly.

As soon as he'd left, Angel switched on the computer and logged on to the shared drive, quickly finding the program and clicking into it.

Yes! Fred's program was still running. There was the little blip, speeding out of the garage. He couldn't help the smugness that suffused him. Spike had been so anxious to avoid talking about the previous night that he'd forgotten to ask how they had managed to find him.

He watched for a while and started to grasp where Spike was heading. What the hell was he up to?

There was only one way to find out.

He told Harmony to cancel his afternoon meeting, grabbed himself a car and headed out to Cyvus Vail's mansion.


	10. Part 10

Warning: M/M sex. Strong language.

Summary: Spike begins his assault, on both the Circle and Angel...

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

Feedback: Please let me know what you think…

A/N: Thanks to stars91 for her support and the fantastic beta, all mistakes due to after-beta tinkering.

This has been cut slightly to meet the ratings here. I don't believe it affects the story but if you want to read the full version it can be found at The Crypt: the-crypt "dot" net

**Relevance of Spike**

**Part 10**

This time around Angel was more covert about entering the sorcerer's abode, mapping the sewer systems around the area until he found an entrance that emerged in the basement underneath Vail's house. He'd suspected it must exist. As he knew only too well, underground egress was vital to demons needing to travel unseen, or to receive visitors anonymously. This particular tunnel appeared to be well used.

He moved stealthily, scenting the air as he crept along. To his vampiric sight the basement had an eerie, twilight quality reminiscent of tallow candles and rising smoke. He melted seamlessly into the darkened corners. The atmosphere was so contaminated by old magic and older evil that it almost obliterated individual scents, making them indistinguishable, one from another. The stench of evil brought his demon to bright-eyed alertness.

He heard a noise.

Hidden by shadows, he crouched down; muscles tensed and prepared to leap into action.

They were coming…

More than two? He squinted through the gloom and could just make out a familiar figure. Izzy's skin glowed in the darkness, as red as the coals of hell.

There were other figures around him. Angel's eyes turned gold, his enhanced sight piercing through the cloak of surrounding darkness. There was Cyvus Vail and there was… Spike…? Hell's teeth! What the hell had he managed to get himself inveigled in now? What did he think he was doing with these two? In fact, why would Cyvus and Iggy, two powerful and ancient demons, be holding clandestine meetings?

Angel frowned as he mulled it over. This went far deeper than he originally guessed. Izzy was one of a group who represented the interests of the Senior Partners in this dimension, and was his own personal contact to the group. His mind was spinning with possibilities… was Cyvus Vail also part of this exclusive group? It made sense that a sorcerer of his power would be associated with the Senior Partners.

Angel cursed under his breath. This sent all the balls tumbling through the air.

Sure, Spike had said he'd had a plan, but Angel had never expected this. Although thinking back to the contents of his briefcase, he wondered why he was so surprised. He tried to recall the prongs of the attack: subversion, infiltration, diversion and division… or something. He began to wish that he'd paid more attention to those ideas. It was so difficult to remember that Spike had been his own master for over a hundred years.

He thought he detected a darkness pass over Spike's features and a wariness in his eyes. Angel had no doubt that he'd been sensed. And now he understood what had been disturbing him about this place. It wasn't the scents. It was the overwhelming presence of his childe.

He was speaking and Angel's ears pricked up, knowing that whatever was said would be partly for his benefit.

"Are you sure we can't be detected here?"

"Yes, yes," Cyvus answered impatiently. "This room cannot be monitored by magical or electronic means. So please, answer the question."

"Izzy was obvious. You have become kind of infamous, Mate… red skin, horn, tail. It seemed pretty clear you've been dealing for the Senior Partners for a very long time."

Izzy waved away the suggestion.

"Not that long really," he replied modestly. "I started working for the Senior Partners back in the Middle Ages. Unfortunately, that was about the time when real life depiction in art began taking off…."

"Well, you're kinda distinctive, not to mention high profile. Can you really play the fiddle?"

Izzy's eyes lit up.

"Why? Are you wanting a little competition? I win, I get your soul. You win and you get your heart's desire?"

"Already got my heart's desire."

Angel could have sworn that Spike looked directly at him, but also knew blue eyes never strayed from Izzy's face.

"Ah well. A devil's gotta try," Izzy replied with good grace.

"How did you guess about me?" Cyvus asked.

Spike appeared shocked that the question needed asking.

"Come on! The amount of power you wield?"

Cyvus gave a satisfied smile.

"It's true that I am the most powerful sorcerer in this dimension." He didn't count modesty amongst his faults.

Izzy brought the conversation back to the point.

"So what do you want with us?"

"You know my opinion. You're backing the wrong vamp, Mate."

"I gotta disagree with you there, little guy. My money's on Angel."

Cyvus waved him to silence. It was clear who wielded the power here. Izzy shrugged and sulkily retreated. Cyvus appeared to consider Spike's words as he trundled along with his trolley that held all the necessaries to keep him alive indefinitely.

"You have a soul, too." His answer and his face were non-committal.

"That's true. But the difference is that I'm not suddenly going to change into something different. My soul is permanent. With me, you know what you've got."

Cyvus secretly agreed but continued to play devil's advocate.

"Have you ever thought that maybe Angelus would suit our plans better? After all, he is evil…"

"Angelus is an insane megalomaniac. If you know anything about him at all, you'll know that he doesn't play nice with other demons. You think you're clever? Angelus would run rings around the lot of you. Make no mistake, he would want the power you have and he's clever enough to take it. He'd kill you all. I think the Senior Partners would be impressed with him. Too impressed. If you want to keep power then you don't want Angelus."

A nod of agreement as Spike quoted his suspicions right back at him.

"Yes. He killed the Beast. They were impressed." He made a small moue of discontent.

"'Xactly."

"What about Angel? You seem to have been getting along with him particularly well recently." A sly look accompanied this statement.

"What can I say?" Spike replied with a shrug, "He's my Sire. I care for him, but I've betrayed him before and I'll do it again if it becomes necessary. He's weak. You know it, I know it. He couldn't cut it. Even if he wanted the power he's been out of the game for too long. Me, on the other hand…"

Spike had Cyvus hanging on to every word.

"Go on. You…?"

Spike gave a diffident shrug.

"I've always been able to do what's necessary, ensouled or soulless. I've cut deals with slayers and gods. Good or evil. It's results that matter."

Another nod of agreement.

"People get far too hung up on good and evil. You're correct." He wheezed. "All that counts is purpose and results, but can we bind you to our purpose?"

"I dunno…. What have you got to offer?"

A creaky laugh greeted this. Now Spike was talking a language he understood to the core of his demon soul.

"Everything you've ever dreamt off? How does that grab you, youngster?"

"I have pretty big dreams."

Cyvus would have been disappointed if the cocky young vampire had responded in any other way.

"I'll bring you to the attention of the other members as a potential candidate if that is your wish."

"Yeah, that's what I want."

Angel listened and wondered what the hell Spike was up to. He searched the sharp face, trying to read what was working behind it, but it remained infuriatingly indecipherable. It was a sign of how far he and Spike had come that it never entered his head to doubt Spike. There was one thing he had learnt over the past couple of weeks, he could trust Spike with his life. When the chips were down, his Childe had fought, body and soul, for him

The others left the cellar and Angel departed the same way he'd come, his mind deeply troubled. He didn't doubt Spike's innate cunning or intelligence but still found it difficult to believe that he had managed to figure out two members of the Circle of the Black Thorn.

As he drove back it all started to fall into place.

Spike couldn't talk openly for the same reason that he himself couldn't, but he obviously knew that Angel had been approached. In fact, it seemed his ignorant Childe suddenly seemed to know a helluva a lot… and on top of that he refused to talk about Mede. Had Mede given him the heads up? Angel kicked himself for even asking the question, the answer was obvious.

So, Spike had known he was there and passed on as much of his plans as possible. It looked as though he was trying to cause conflict in the ranks of the Circle by making them side with one or other of them. He guessed that he could play that game too.

He returned, wanting to shelter in his office and think through everything that had happened, but as he walked into the reception, Harmony hailed him.

"Boss? The Inspector is here to see you."

"Mede?"

His face darkened, he couldn't believe that he'd have the nerve to show up here!

She nodded and indicated with a look.

Angel stalked over to him, his rage barely contained.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled.

The man was unfazed by the naked aggression.

"It's policy that the CEO gets to see a draft of my report, in case they want to challenge any inconsistencies before I file it with the Senior Partners."

He held out a printed version of the report, but Angel's eye was caught by the fine-boned wrist and the twisted skein of vampire-hide that was bound around it.

Mede followed his gaze.

"Ah. A keepsake. A reminder if you like."

"I damned well don't like."

"Mind your manners, Angel."

Just at that second Spike also returned.

"You!"

He glared at Mede in outage, who, in turn, merely looked amused

"If you're going to ask me what I'm doing here, I'm finishing the job I was contracted to do. I may dally with my small amusements, but I am a professional, It's why they hire me."

"You could have frigging scarred me for life!"

"I take it I didn't?"

And this time Angel was watching closely and swore that he saw the man's shoulders sag with relief.

Spike's eyes were drawn to the pale band on his wrist, tied there like some bizarre friendship bracelet.

"He says it's a reminder," Angel growled.

"When someone finally stakes you I'll be the first to know," Mede explained blandly.

Now Spike looked curious.

"It'll turn to dust?"

"Of course."

"Don't bank on it being permanent. Hasn't been so far." It seemed it wasn't his destiny to rest in peace.

Ghan looked at him sadly.

"No, Probably not," he replied, answering Spike's wistful thought rather than his spoken words.

"I wish you'd stop doing that! Could at least pretend that a bloke's thoughts are his own."

"But you know how much I despise…"

"Pretence," Spike finished off.

"You read my mind."

Mede almost smiled and Spike almost grinned back, but both managed to kill their burgeoning goodwill.

There were weird dynamics in this conversation that would have confused Angel, but he had finally sussed that nothing was as it appeared. It was even possible that the man was actually allied to Spike and the torture routine just an elaborate charade, in which case he'd better play his part.

"You've done your job." Angel took the report from him. "Now go. You're not welcome here, Mede."

It came to him easily enough.

"There's not many places I am," he replied, his mouth twisting sardonically, "Odd that."

"Strangely enough, I understand it perfectly. I suggest you leave your cell number, if I have any queries on the report I'll contact you."

"I'll be available until midday a week today and then the report will be sent on."

He turned to Spike and reached out to gently caress his cheek. Spike caught his wrist before he could complete the gesture.

"We'll meet again, Vampire."

Still feeling pretty pissed about the holy water, Spike growled, "Yeah? Not if I see you first we bloody won't."

He released the wrist with an aggressive motion.

Ghan gave him a nod of farewell and left, fingering his bracelet. It occurred to Spike that there went one of the loneliest men in the world.

Angel sighed.

"Why do I feel like we're salmon, fighting our way upstream just to get screwed and die?"

It seemed an unfortunate turn of phrase given the constantly charged atmosphere that surrounded them. The tension in the room rose as Spike stilled, the words replaying through his mind. He cocked his head.

"Unlife is so uncertain. I mean, sod it, we could die tonight. So you're thinking there's a chance we might get screwed first?"

His voice was dark and seductive.

And suddenly the air was heavy with arousal. It was overpowering and cloying, and obliterated all other thoughts from their minds.

Their eyes met and some enchantment buzzed through the air as their gazes locked.

oooo

He told Harmony they were leaving for the evening. Neither of them heard her reply.

They walked coolly into the elevator, exchanging small glances as they went. The nonchalant attitude lasted until the doors slid shut.

Reception disappeared to the merest crack and trust, loyalty, allegiance and all the others words they were no longer free to speak, found expression in Spike's first tentative kiss, whispered across his Sire's skin and receiving sweet affirmation, as lips parted in acceptance, pressing to his, tasting, devouring…

Anticipation thrummed through their bodies like heartbeats. After one hundred years of waiting and wanting…they were almost nervous.

Angel moved closer, drawn irresistibly towards his Childe, swaying against him. The light brush of hips was all it needed, like the touch of live wires, electricity sparked between them, detonating a charge of energy that ripped through them, blasting away doubt and confusion.

The power of it had Spike catching a breath, grasping the lapels of Angel's jacket to support his sudden weakness, looking up with wide eyes, as though he were truly seeing his Sire for the first time. He gazed upon the dark, intense eyes and the pink, kiss-swollen lips…bloody gorgeous. And this man belonged to him.

Angel stared back, wondering that the abstract of angles and planes could combine to such perfection in the face of his childe, and the look on that face sent a pulse of pure desire screeching through his body. Ironic that as his insides softened to marshmallow, the rest of his body hardened to iron.

Deliberately repeating his action, Angel lightly swayed against him, hard bodies brushing together and he felt the shock of current spark between them. Wordlessly he absorbed Spike's smallest reaction; the darting tongue and slickly moist lips, flickering eyelids and an involuntary gasp of desire that caught at Angel's groin and uncurled through his guts. He had the ability to do this to his Childe with only a touch? He thrilled to the power, and every human and every demon thought screamed, "Mine!"

Lust danced naked in Spike's eyes, a hundred years had been a long time to wait, but this moment was worth everything. He lunged forward triumphantly claiming what was his.

Angel stumbled backwards, taken unawares by the passion of the assault, recovering and responding with an overwhelming need to take and own. They crashed together, two powerful demons, matched in strength and desire.

They demanded and fought, the air thickened around them like smoke, enfolding them in reeking clouds of potent male arousal. Misplaced kisses landed haphazardly as mouths clashed for ascendancy. The violence of their desire threw hard bodies and heads against the elevator side, sending it swaying and clattering in its shaft, as insistent mouths snatched at their prize.

Eyes became pools of inky darkness, as greedy, grasping hands sought expanses of flesh and flexing muscles. They were lost to the touch, the sound, the scent of each other, fists twining in hair, mouth seeking mouth, tongues tasting and duelling as passion rode though them.

Angel wrenched at Spike's duster, it pooled forgotten on the floor. Buttons popped and clothing tore in his frantic haste to lay heated touches and parched lips upon cool silken, skin.

Elevator doors slid open and they tumbled gracelessly into the apartment. Spike's lips were bloodied, Angel's head received another crack, but all that mattered was quenching this craving.

The dark vampire was a predator once more and Spike shivered to the hunger in his eyes.

Thrown backwards as Angel pounced, Spike had never seen such need blazing through his Sire. The years Angel had spent controlling his desires, now scorched through him, a supernova fuelled by one hundred and twenty years of unrequited lust. It couldn't be contained, exploding from him, searing Spike with its intensity and setting his eternal night ablaze with light.

His Sire moved over him like a force of nature, a whirlwind that stripped and laid bare all it touched, leaving Spike exposed and quivering in its aftermath.

Boots were kicked off, rough denim slid down as hands moved carelessly over pale thighs, dragging back up his body, until material impeded progress. Remnants of a shirt were ripped away, nails raked red streaks across naked skin and blood welled to the surface, fuelling the conflagration that burnt within. The scent hit them like an aphrodisiac. Blood rose to blood, desire leapt to touch and Angel nuzzled in, half kissing and half biting. Memories of Yuletide were rolling across his tongue. White, snowy skin that tasted like pine cones and smoke, blood as rich as marzipan, burning like brandy, sending him reeling with intoxication.

And Spike was a revelation, his body accepting all the punishment that Angel gave, responding, needing… Soft moans of desire escaped his lips as Angel removed the camouflage of clothes, stripping him to his soul.

Flawless skin was caressed by a gaze as sensual as silk, warming him, covering him, binding him…..

"Please, Angel…." he begged his voice breaking.

"Please what?" The answering voice mocked his loss of language.

"Touch me…"

Angel leant back, fascinated by the haunting need contained in eyes of smoke and fire.

"Where? Here?" Lips brushed across his fluttering eyelids.

"Or here?" He mouthed gently in to his neck.

Spike's body quivered like steel striking stone.

"Yeah…" he whispered.

Angel teased human teeth against a faint scar, still sensitive from the bite that had been placed there so many years before.

Spike gasped, writhing to his touch, desire burning through his veins.

Licking his lips, Angel leant back, feeding his hunger, feasting his eyes on Spike's body, the darkening eyes, the white teeth that bit down on bloodied, swollen lips. His gaze lingered on the flat chest, muscles that rippled his torso as he moved. His very masculinity was disturbing and arousing.

Here was his fantasy made flesh, a sculpture of white marble coloured with life, solid and tactile, something to be touched and stroked. Worshipful fingers reached out to cool skin, traced hardened ridges of muscles, adding details to an image he would hold close to his heart for the rest of eternity. He grasped the memory, held it safe in his hand and hung it amongst a gallery of precious moments.

The light touches, left fiery trails across Spike's sensitised skin. His body yearned for more, needed more, uncaring as to who controlled, who dominated, as long as those hands continued their journey. He willed them lower, and they obliged, slowly skimming over his stomach, his muscles tensed and twitched in anticipation.

The roving hand stilled.

A piteous whimper escaped Spike's lips and he gazed pleadingly at Angel, leant towards him, begging him, promising him the world if he would only continue…

Angel's smile was worthy of Angelus.

Jeez, this was so much better than fantasy. Spike was arching towards his touch, desperate for more. The small sounds and soft moans, breathed through softer lips, shot electricity through Angel's body, his toes curled, his chest tightened and he was flying high on the astonishing thought that this was Spike…. His lover, his partner… hell, his everything!

His self-satisfied musings abruptly stalled as he was suddenly flung around and pushed against the wall, his mouth devoured by his impatient Childe.

Angel recovered from the shock of this unexpected turnaround. So this was what it felt like having a lover who was his equal? He felt a flush of arousal at the intensity of his Childe's need.

Spike took everything that was offered and demanded more. Kissing and licking at Angel's mouth, whilst pulling frantically at his leather jacket. It slipped from his shoulders, turning inside out as it slid down his arms, becoming stuck and leaving the larger vampire pinioned, unable to move his arms.

Seeing his predicament, a slow grin spread over Spike's face, he was happy to take his time.

The next kiss was carefully placed, deep and lingering, as he deliberately ground his body against Angel's. Flesh responded to flesh in a language as old as life. Spike caught his breath and broke the kiss as a low moan escaped Angel's lips. He watched his Sire's reaction with hot avid eyes.

"Oh Christ. So bloody sexy," he whispered in a voice rough with emotion.

Angel had rarely been so helpless. A hint of apprehension and a thin sliver of fear had him struggling frantically against the binding leather.

Watching his squirming, a surge of power pulsed through Spike… he had his Sire at his mercy, which was unfortunate because he had none for this victim.

Cool fingers trailed menacingly along the length of Angel's neck, fisted in his silky, dark hair, pulling back to expose his neck, an insistent tongue taunting the place where a pulse had once beaten so strongly with life. Long teasing licks slid up the column of his neck, following the artery from base to jaw, nipping playfully along the way. Angel's struggles were futile and he gradually gave in and accepted his fate, accepted that at his moment his Childe was now his Master. His head fell back, surrendering completely to his tormentor. Spike growled in triumph, pressing their bodies together, tightening his grip and sucking hard, almost breaking tender skin against human teeth.

As salt brought forth flavour, so pain intensified the pleasure whipping though Angel's body. He let out a gasp as blunt teeth suddenly bit down, and clutched convulsively at Spike's shoulders.

A couple of gulps of the precious blood was all Spike needed, enough to send the power of it flying through him like quicksilver. The demon magic invigorated him and heightened his senses, heightened his desire...

He ran his tongue over his teeth, slowly licking them clean, before turning his attention back to Angel and wondering why the hell he wasn't naked…. Fingers moved from dishevelled hair and slowly and carefully began unbuttoning the normally pristine shirt.

"Don't want it to get crumpled, do we Pet?" he teased, pushing it back, fingers running in awe across the breadth of the powerful, bulging shoulders. Everything about his Sire was so bloody erotic.

"You're perfect…." Spike's voice was dirt and gravel. It sent shivers running through the dark vampire.

"Just tear the damned thing off!" Angel hissed, his torso writhing as he twisted to get free of his jacket. Then one of Spike's hands trailed over his exposed chest, brushing against sensitive nipples. Angel froze.

"Do it again!" he demanded huskily.

Spike caught his gaze and held it as he moved his mouth closer. Angel had to close his eyes. He felt a thousand volt surge as a tongue teasingly whipped over the hardened nub. His body was rubber, melting to the heat of it.

One of Spike's hands shifted to Angel's pants, slowly releasing the zip. The touch was his undoing. Angel's legs began folding beneath him and he took a shuddering breath.

Spike sensed his weakness and forced him backwards until the edge of the bed struck the crook of his knees. His legs finally collapsed from under him and he sank gratefully onto the bed, his childe tumbling on top, sitting astride across his thighs, fingers tugging at his pants.

Some small sense of responsibility surfaced in Angel's brain.

"Jesus, Spike! I…I haven't touched, or been touched in so long. Last time, you know, with the biting and all, I could feel Angelus growing strong, and again now… I don't know if I dare to do this. I'm afraid I'm going to lose myself in you."

His voice was pure agony and indecision.

Spike was wrenched by the raw need in his face.

"This ain't about happiness or love, Pet It's about need. Shit, it's a frigging mercy mission."

He saw the look of doubt on Angel's face.

"S'ok, Luv. We won't shag, just want to help you…"

Angel groaned and knew his judgement was shot to hell, but he had to admit this wasn't the swelling, ripening tenderness he'd felt for Buffy. This was something older, more immediate and primal, driving through his body like the beat of drums and the clash of spears.

Spike saw the acceptance in his eyes, bent his head to the broad chest and elongated canines delicately traced two red lines that healed almost as they appeared.

Angel was swamped by sensations; the stinging cuts, the tingle of healing and Spike's lips gliding silkily over his skin. It was too much. He was lost and shivering to each touch, and could no more protest than he could have stood and walked away. Hell, even the standing part was beyond him, he was boneless and without will or strength of his own, his own cravings were bound to Spike's desire. At that moment his beautiful childe could have demanded anything and Angel would have complied, there was nothing left of him except pliant flesh and nerve endings that hummed and danced to any tune Spike cared to play.

And Spike had been born to play this instrument, so finely attuned was he to Angel.

Harsh breaths kept the rhythm. A tug to sensitive nipples and Angel was swooping and flying like the notes falling glissando from a harpist's fingers. Spike watched with darkened eyes.

"You need me, don't yer, Peaches?"

His voice was shadow and husks, and Angel's body responded, vibrating and resonating to the deep bass notes of that voice. He groaned Spike's name, his blood singing in response to the talented fingers that played him.

Angel began panting, his body flexing and tensing, as he was wound tighter and tighter, until he could take no more…. Something snapped inside, recoiling through his body like a kick from an AK-47, and he was blown away.

Spike was moulded to him, reacting to him and for one flawless moment, they were in tune with each other, holding tight with bruising fingers, gazing from sightless eyes, ecstasy wracking their bodies.

Angel shuddered and it seemed the world shuddered with him. He lay cradled in strong arms, shaking in the aftermath.

"'k?"

Angel nodded and opened his eyes. They were tangled together, sated and content. Spike never wanted to move again.

Except Angel started wriggling and disturbed him as he relaxed in the warmth of the afterglow.

Spike opened an eye, "What's matter?"

"Can I take my jacket off now," Angel asked plaintively.

Spike reluctantly rolled off and looked across at Angel's debauched body, his glistening torso, framed by dark pants and black leather. Christ he looked so damned edible.

"Nah. Gonna keep you like this forever, Pet."

Angel pouted.

"Not possible. I need to shower."

"You're perfect just the way you are."

"I smell of you and sex."

"See, told you. Perfect."

"Yeah…." His dark brows drew together.

"What?"

"It's just… I don't know where the line is," he replied quietly.

"Uh? Run that by me again, Pet."

"I'm still here, but it was so damned close to perfect. Where's the line, Spike? Were you right, was this just about need? Is it because you're a demon so the curse doesn't work with you? What would that tip it over the edge?"

Spike was thoughtful.

"See what you mean…. You're thinking maybe a full shag and welcome back, Angelus?

"More to the point, it's goodbye Angel. The thing is I don't know, and until I do I shouldn't be doing this with you," he said with a frown, "I should have stopped you just now, but…."

Spike nodded his understanding.

"How about you ask Wesley?"

"Wesley? I don't want him, I want you!"

Spike started laughing. Reaching out he finally eased Angel out of his constricting jacket.

"Thanks for that, Luv, but I meant get Wesley researching. Maybe we'll be safe, like you say, cus the curse don't work when you shag demons or he could find out how to make your soul permanent. There must be a way around it or else why would that Predictor have mentioned lovers?"

"You know about that? It doesn't matter, we can't trust it. We both know how those things work. The answer was probably thrown out by blind chance and we're deluding ourselves."

"Even if it was, it's gone way beyond that between us now. How much do you want it?"

Angel shook his head miserably.

"When we started this I kinda assumed I'd be safe with you, but I have to take responsibility. He's too close. Even what we did was too damned close. I could almost feel Angelus rising inside me, shaking the bars and gloating at my weakness. I don't know if we should continue…."

Angel merely meant, continue with the physical side of their relationship.

Spike heard something else entirely, he looked down to hide the hurt, as his heart contracted.

Noticing the look Angel assumed that Spike was worried about the lack of sex.

"I'll talk to Wesley tomorrow."

Angel glanced at him, remembering everything else that had happened that day.

"Umm… do you want to talk about your day?"

Spike eyed him warily.

"Do we need to?"

They exchanged a look of understanding.

"No, I don't think we do."

Spike nodded, tucked himself into Angel and, found his natural place once more. Angel wrapped his arms protectively around him and they both closed weary eyes on a day that had been at odds with itself, from the miserable start, to the confusing end.

oooo

Angel was awoken with a kiss and in a way it exacerbated the dread knotting in his stomach. He had so much to lose now. He had a lover. One who woke him with kisses.

Today he was going to ask Wesley, but supposing it was hopeless?

He tried to divert his mind, anything to stop himself hoping or dwelling on the approaching disappointment. He needed something to take his mind off it. Spike could be endless diverting, but today he was silent, and that just added to the weirdness.

He smothered a grin, he knew just the thing to wind him up and set him away.

"Remember that Job Predictor?"

"Uh huh. How could I forget?"

"I think you should be Ghost."

Spike caught his look of unbearable smugness. "Ok. I'm gonna regret this but I'll play along. Why?"

"Didn't it predict you'd be a hunter gatherer? I guess that makes you a caveman. You're at one end of the evolutionary process and then there's me, an astronaut, at the other end."

Spike quirked his eyebrows.

"And you what? Think that makes you superior?"

"Well, yeah."

"Don't be completely stupid! All an astronaut has to do is learn how to press a few buttons. Any monkey could be trained to do that. Hunting and gathering is a skilled job, takes intelligence and strength."

"Strength maybe, but an astronaut is superior in all other ways."

"Yeah? If it came down to a fight, the bleedin' caveman would beat your brains out."

"The astronaut would blast your brains out before you could even blink."

"You're allowed weapons? I'm talking about who's superior, not who has better weapons. Did the astronaut build the weapon with his own hands? No. Then it don't count."

"Fair point. Obviously I would use my superior training and intelligence to beat you."

"You're over-civilised, lost the killer instinct. You're too used to doing your killing at a distance. I 'd use my natural aggressiveness, cunning and overpowering strength…" Spike's voice became passionate.

"Well, I'd use my enhanced intelligence, astuteness and powers of…" Angel cut through him with sheer volume.

"We are still talking about cavemen and astronauts, yeah?"

"Uh," Angel replied sheepishly, "I guess it was getting out of hand."

"I mean… astronauts and cavemen!"

"Stupid argument really."

"Yeah, daft…the frigging astronaut wouldn't stand a chance."

"We'll see what Wesley has to say to that."

"And Gunn."

"Ok."

"Ok."

oooo

Later that morning Wesley knocked at the door of Spike's newly appointed office. The vampire had been busy researching a few of the names that Ghan had given him and then accidentally and inexplicably found himself in the middle of a shoot 'em um game.

"Hello? Spike it's me."

"It's open."

"How are you? Your injuries? Are you healing ok?"

"Yeah. Slow obviously, but don't think the name is indelible."

Wesley settled himself uncomfortably, watching as Spike finished another level in his game.

"Getting your fix of mindless violence?"

"Yeah. Hush. Damn. Look what you've made me do."

He flung the control to one side and then looked at Wesley expectantly.

"Angel asked me a question earlier and it's been on my mind ever since."

"I don't know why. Obviously the answer is cavemen. Savagery and instinct and pure animal aggressiveness will win out every time."

"Well that wasn't exactly what I've been thinking about. Although, Angel does have a point, evolution has a part to play."

"Evolution into a load of self satisfied, mass-debaters, who over analyse every problem to death."

"That's certainly one point of view but… No, Spike. I will not be drawn into one of your petty little spats. Angel was asking about his curse."

"Oh…that question."

"I'm discussing it with you because I think that you have a vested interest in this."

"Maybe."

"He seemed to be under the impression that it didn't work with demons, seeing as he didn't lose his soul when he and Darla…."

"Shagged?"

"Yes, thank you, Spike. I think the point is, he wasn't happy with Darla, he certainly didn't love her, and he was generally in a bad place, as our American cousins like to say."

"So he never reached perfect happiness with her? Where does that leave me?"

"Well, you'd know better than me. It seems…"

"Unlikely?" Spike pouted.

"But possible."

"Oh. Have you told him this?"

"No, I wanted to speak to you first."

Spike was grateful for small mercies. Angel had only chosen him as a lover because he was a demon and so wrongly assumed his soul would be a safe, if he knew differently how quickly would Spike be dropped from his life? It made his head hurt to think about it. Because when he did think about it he had the feeling he was buggered whichever way it went. And not in a good way.

"I have thought of one possibility for making his soul permanent, but it's incredibly dangerous."

"In what way? What are we risking here, Percy?"

"The permanent return of Angelus."

"Oh. Is that all." His voice dripped sarcasm.

"We both know him. You better than me. Maybe you could live with that. From your stormy relationship I'd say you used to be close."

"And maybe you notice too much."

"I noticed that he can be amusing, in a dark sort of way. He's powerful. He's charismatic. He's attractive."

"Why don't you just bring him back and shag him yourself?"

"Spike, I need to know where you stand in this. Do you still care for Angelus? Does a part of you still long for him?"

"I think this is way beyond the point of none of your business."

"I'm asking because everything would depend on you and I need to know how committed to Angel you are and how influenced by Angelus."

"Just tell me and let me use my own judgement."

"No. I'm sorry, Spike but I'm not sure I can trust you in this."

He left Spike to ponder his words. He was pretty certain it was Angel he loved, but he had to admit the first attraction he'd felt had been for Angelus.


	11. Part 11

Has it really been that long since the last update? A million apologies - I don't know why you put up with me with me - but thank you!

Summary: Spike and Angel's plans continue against a backdrop of misunderstandings

Warning: Some strong language

Feedback: Please let me know what you think…

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to Stars for her fantastic support and the beta, all mistakes due to after-beta tinkering

**Relevance of Spike**

**Part 11**

What a shit week.

This was what it felt like to loved? It left Spike alternatively high, low and downright confused. Not strictly speaking a Harlequin or Mills & Boon kind of bloke, he still knew the way it was supposed to happen….

Fall in love. Bloke loves you back.

Bam! Explosions and fireworks.

Asks you to move in to his enormous penthouse, buys you loads of thing to keep you happy, lots of blood and sex, obviously.

The stories appeared to gloss over some crucial elements, such as the part where he tells you exactly why he's always hated you and then skanks off with a sodding werewolf.

Angel's moment of post coital honesty had hit Spike like a slug to the guts and ever since, he'd been waiting for the follow-up blow, the knock-out punch that would send him reeling into oblivion. Every word that Angel spoke was pulled apart and analysed to see if it had other meanings. Such as goodbye.

Not that he doubted Angel genuinely felt something for him, but he'd noticed that others seemed to love differently to him. They could just walk away, whereas he became kind of hooked.

In Spike's opinion, it had all started when Angel got hit with a whammy and turned into a puppet.

If anyone had asked Angel, he would have explained that the whole thing coalesced from a chance remark that Gunn passed regarding two such powerful and charismatic figures heading the Company.

"It's lucky that you two manage to present a united front, else we'd be looking at World War Three."

The vampires froze, fleeting frowns at the thought that details of their plans may have emerged, they looked at Gunn in askance.

"You must have noticed that Wolfram & Hart is being split in two, right?"

Wesley nodded, "Every employee with a grievance against you is questioning whether the right vampire has been chosen to head the Company."

Angel's frown deepened.

Gunn mistook its cause and attempted to reassure.

"Hey. Not that they dislike you," he lied and looked around for support.

"Absolutely not." Lorne ploughed in. "True, some would love nothing more than to pull out your guts, twist them around a stick like pretty, pink candyfloss and eat them for breakfast…. Uh, not really helping here, am I?"

Angel had been thinking through the implications of Gunn's comment and merely nodded at Lorne without really hearing. Then the remark registered; a quick rewind of the conversation…

"Huh?"

"Well speaking frankly, and just as an aside I look better with this handsome noggin attached to my neck, you're not winning any popularity contests, Peachypie. Whereas Spike…."

He gave a smile that could easily be mistaken for a grimace.

"Whereas Spike, what?" Angel queried.

"I'm popular, Mate," Spike clarified, albeit with a slight lilt in his tone as though not quite believing it himself.

"Huh?" he asked again.

"Pop-u-lar," Spike enunciated clearly, "Like what you're not."

"I think it's just because Spike hasn't killed anyone. Yet," Gunn clarified.

Wesley nodded his agreement and added, "Although some see this as a weakness."

"A few killings demonstrate strength and gets respect." The others looked at Gunn and he shrugged. "Just the way it works."

"Hey, I can kill. Volunteers step right on up…"

He went into game face. Fred giggled and the others ignored him completely. Spike shook it off with a sigh, people seemed to forget, scary vampire here.

He also caught the implications. If his strength and ability was being questioned by the Wolfram & Hart drones, then it would also be a bone of contention for Black Thorn members.

"So you're saying that people have a friendly rivalry, but if we became enemies it would escalate?" Angel asked. He had also figured out that the Company seemed a fair reflection of the Circle they were attempting to divide.

"Luckily you two are getting along."

"Yeah, lucky…" Angel agreed, catching Spike's eye.

They needed to fall out. Publicly and violently.

Spike nodded.

Unfortunately, for the first time in their lives they realised that there was nothing that they particularly wanted to argue about. Spike pouted and Angel raised his brows in amusement at the irony.

However, their dilemma was easily rectified when Angel turned into a grumpy, belligerent puppet.

Uh huh, a frigging puppet! And how ironic is that? Who says the Powers don't have a sense of humour? Twisted and warped, yeah, but kind of humorous if you looked sideways and squinted.

Strangely, Angel never really got the joke. All his other personality traits got exaggerated, but his sense of humour, pooft! Gone. Maybe the others didn't really notice, but Spike did. Frankly, his Sire turned into an evil little bugger, with a punch that just wasn't right for a squishy, overstuffed vampire….

After all, Spike's reaction had been more than natural. Who wouldn't have fallen around laughing if their lover had turned into a puppet? Maybe he shouldn't have asked if he had a little stuffed todger to match… especially as Puppet!Angel's nose had come away in his hand during the ensuing fight. It made a man think…. Spike tactfully refrained from teasing about that part of his anatomy. A guy needs some dignity, after all, even if he is a puppet.

He still had his cute moments too. In fact, he became incredibly cuddly. Well, ok. Horny. Somehow, having erotic thoughts about a little felt man with a removable body parts was too much even for Spike's fertile imagination. He'd played on the excuse of the curse, before telling him frankly that he could never fancy a puppet.

Dark brows had pulled together and Puppet!Angel had glowered angrily. Then it had happened. The business with the werewolf.

Spike had watched in disbelief. Ok, Angel was a little pissed because Spike didn't want to get it on with a little puppet guy, but was that any reason to start making those frigging idiotic mooneyes at Werebitch? Served him sodding right that he got the stuffing torn from him.

When Angel finally returned to normal Spike had immediately gone to him, demanding explanations, but wanting reassurance. He reflected afterward that maybe he should have left Angel to readjust to being flesh and blood and get over the humiliation of being Puppet!Angel. Apparently everything was his fault, if he'At a have d been more supportive….

Spike had been speechless. It was at least a full five seconds before he had found his voice again.

"What! I've been Mr Bloody Supportive Guy!"

"Really? I must have blinked and missed it."

"Did I say single word to you about your detachable extremities? No, I bloody didn't! Did I comment on you and the fleabag?"

"If you mean Nina, then yes, you did!" Angel replied furiously. "You pulled my nose off and told her that I fell apart during sex!"

Spike tried to hide his grin. That had been a bloody masterstroke. The look on her face had been indescribable.

"Yeah… but I was supportive. I didn't lose me temper or take the piss, just satisfactorily sorted out the situation."

"Satisfactorily…! She laughed so hard she became hysterical!"

"I know. I thought that was real shit of her, bit of sympathy might not have gone amiss. Just her true character coming through... think you had a lucky escape there, Luv."

"Escape? There was nothing to escape from!" Angel denied angrily.

Spike had tried shrugging it off, but his temper started to rise in response. He raised his eyebrows.

"You think I didn't know about your intimate little moments? It was just embarrassing the way you two behaved around each other!"

And suddenly Spike was on the attack and Angel was forced into defensive manoeuvring.

"I couldn't handle anything. There was no middle ground, everything I felt was extreme. Love, hate, affection, anger…"

"Horniness?"

"Yeah..."

"You wanted to shag, I backed off, so you thought Dog Breath would do instead."

"No! Anyway, I wasn't myself!" Angel protested angrily.

"Bitching, fighting and rolling over for some little blonde bint to walk over? Yeah, hardly recognised you." The sneer in his voice hid the hurt that had been growing inside like a dark thunder cloud.

Spike realised that this conversation should have been left for a while and not just for Angel's sake. He was too pissed off to think clearly. Perhaps he should be more understanding? After all, this was the way things were between them, Angel kept his balance by occasionally losing it with Spike. Which would be ok, he'd have been right there, soaking it up and punching it back, but he had deep-set insecurities regarding Angel and little blonde girls.

Angel felt satisfied.

This was just the kind of rift they needed and he was pleased how well Spike had caught on and responded. It was really kind of fun to be arguing with him again.

"Was it my fault Nina was attracted to me and I'm too much of a klutz to deal with it properly?"

"This might sound like a bloody stupid idea but you could have just said that you loved someone else," Spike suggested.

"Puppet anger? Kinda uncontrollable. And Jeez, you could have been more supportive. Just because I had a puppet body didn't mean I didn't still have needs!"

Actually, that was surprisingly true and he was ashamed to admit that his explosion of anger had been genuine at the time, so when Nina propositioned him, his cotton-wool brain had been thick with ideas of revenge, maybe using her to make Spike jealous.

It had all backfired badly. Made worse because now that he was flesh, he could appreciate Spike's point of view regarding the practicalities of making love to little puppet men. Especially one that probably did fall apart during sex.

His immediate reaction had been humiliation and guilt, but had then realised that this was just the opportunity they had been looking for; it could be used to create the conflict they needed for their master plan. He was sure this would be uppermost in Spike's mind, too. Anyway, the stress and upset of becoming a puppet had Angel desperately reaching for the reassurance of old patterns and familiar rituals, releasing it all on Spike was… comforting.

"I was a puppet! Jeez, why can't you be more understanding? You're so insensitive and self-centred. That's one thing I could never stand about you Spike…" he ranted.

Maybe this was true and maybe not, but at some point Spike had stopped shouting, stepped back and listened, a look in his eyes that Angel couldn't decipher, and then he had walked away.

Angel stared after him, thinking that he was over-egging the anger a little. It wasn't unknown for Spike to walk away from a situation, but the silence beforehand? Spike had never stopped talking to him. Hell, he never stopped talking, full stop, Angel smiled slightly at the thought.

Spike turned back to him, something about the slight smirk that hovered on his those lips infuriated him and before Angel could even open his mouth it was wiped from his face by a fist smashing into his cheek

By the time Angel had blinked away the blood, Spike had gone.

He held a cloth to his cheek. Well it was done, but he hated it. It had almost felt real. He guessed rumours of their fight would already be doing the rounds of Chinese whispers and growing in ferocity with each telling. He may as well display his caved in cheek and swollen eye to add some grist to the rumour mill. He touched it and winced at the tenderness. Was there any reason to hit him that hard?

Spike eventually turned up the following morning. Apparently they still weren't talking, at least not to each other. Angel played the game but felt something twinge inside, there was an icy greyness in those eyes that made him wonder whether Spike realised it was all nothing but a play in the deadly game that he had started.

The atmosphere in their meeting left the humans distinctly bemused.

Angel was talking about taking a more proactive approach in fighting evil.

Spike was acting as though Angel wasn't there, looking around in boredom whenever he was speaking, his behaviour becoming ever more outrageous.

"Anyone want to comment?" Angel asked.

They all just wanted it over and each shook their heads, except for Spike. Angel said nothing, just waited, determined to make him speak.

Spike sat back, looked at his watch, scratched at his balls.

"Spike-hunn? Anything you wanna add?" Lorne finally prompted.

"Yeah. I'm going out to get pissed. Anyone coming?"

After that meeting, Lorne was hugely tempted but one glance at Angel's face and he held his tongue. Spike looked around belligerently and then strode out without waiting for an answer.

He didn't go to the bar. Somehow he'd thought a few drinks and his problems would melt into an alcoholic fugue. They hadn't, and now he was suffering from the aftermath of the previous night's bender. He shut his office door, ignored his thumping head and pounding confusion, and instead concentrated on working out the details of his next moves against the Circle.

Hmmm. Next target… either the Archduke Sebassis or the Grand Potentate of the Fell Brethren. What was it with evil and titles? Wanna be evil? Just add a few bells and whistles to your name.

As far as he could figure it, there were four main powers in the Circle. He'd met with Cyvus who represented supernatural power, the Fell Brethren Potentate representing religious, Sebassis who was clearly secular and then Senator Brucker, political obviously. Finally, there were the other four members, Izzy, Chey, Bubba and Don, the Group's negotiators and go-betweens. Individually they had no special power, although it seemed they were allied as a group, which was probably how they had survived so long in such prestigious positions.

Spike remembered Sebassis from the infamous, and in his opinion, disastrous party. An arrogant and powerful Prince of the underworld, with legions at his command.

The Fell Brethren he knew nothing at all about, and so called Wesley for any relevant books, as well as scooting around internet sources. There was a surprising amount of information to be found, including whole tracts of religious texts. He soon realised why there was so much buzz on the websites. It appeared that the coming of the Chosen One was imminent.

Now wasn't that interesting…

oooo

Angel had a squash game scheduled with Izzy.

Apparently the squash courts were one of the safest places to talk, as Izzy said, who the hell talks about business when they're sweating and panting… they considered this for a second and Izzy quickly amended it to; sweating and panting on a squash court.

Both were eager for this chance to update their information. They nodded at each other, pulled on their protective goggles and Angel found immense satisfaction in whacking the living daylights out of the little ball. The violence of his opening play left Izzy standing.

"You were in Vail's basement?" Izzy asked as he took a wild swing at the ball.

"Uh huh."

"You didn't try lying to me? Hmmm."

Angel wasn't sure if he scored a point or not but Izzy gave it to him.

"Does Vail know I was there?" He grunted as he lunged into a wall.

"No. He's an ancient demon." Izzy tapped his nose. "Old senses not what they were, you know?"

Angel nodded.

"You didn't tell him?"

"You heard me, my money's on you."

Another point for Angel.

"Why me?"

He stood back and dropped his next shot neatly into the corner, it wrong-footed Izzy and he was left stranded uncertainly.

"Spike hasn't got your creativity. He's just a minor upstart demon. Sure he has a small amount of fame amongst humans but he's never been a player in the demon world."

Angel was on form, moving confidently around the court.

"He killed the Master's Chosen One. Helped destroy Glory. From Vail's reaction, I'm guessing some in the Circle are taking him seriously."

Again Izzy was wrong-footed

"Don't you worry about it, Big Guy. I have my own contacts. I'll start pulling some strings."

Angel wondered how much of this was demon-talk. He was close to winning the game but Izzy took advantage of Angel's distraction and managed to grab a point.

"How will you convince them?" Angel eventually asked, he needed to know how he was being marketed so that he could play to his strengths.

"There are lots of clever, powerful demons out there but not many major league players. You are major league, my friend. Then there's the importance that the Powers place on you…."

So he'd not only be a puppet for the Powers he'd also have his strings yanked by the Senior Partners? Oh joy.

Another point slipped away.

"What's swaying them towards Spike?"

He was determined to win this one and put on a spurt of supernatural speed to reach it, but Izzy began to come into his own. Short sentences were punctuated by an energetic thwack of the ball.

"They think you're weak. You get too attached to people. They're looking for the grand gesture that would convince them. They're attracted to Spike's independence. He has almost everything you do, but he did it by his own machinations. Even so, some of us are still waiting for him to prove himself."

But Angel was right with him, keeping up and responding. Sensing that the game was almost his, Angel sprang for a long shot.

"Who do I need to win around?"

Izzy took his eye off the ball for a moment and lost it. He gave a grunt of frustration.

"I shouldn't be telling you this but…" A slow smile showed off perfect predator's teeth, "I'm an Angelite through and through."

Angelite? That was a new one. The vampire managed to get the tip of his racquet to the little blue ball.

"Carry on…"

"Fell Brethren," Izzy panted, as he struggled to get his racquet to a ball that seemed be bouncing around the court with a mind of its own. "Senator Brucker, Sebassis."

Angel nodded as he won the point.

"Good game. Another?"

Izzy nodded and focused on doing better in the next round.

oooo

"Hi. I'm William." He stuck out a hand to the pretty young woman. Huh. Small and blonde, just Angel's type. He carefully stepped around all thoughts of Nina and tried not to dislike this woman on principle.

She stared at him in suspicion.

"Yes? What can I do for you? If you're a Jehovah's Witness then I should say now that I'm not interested."

"I'm from Wolfram & Hart."

She relaxed; a look of relief on her face.

"The lawyers? You've come about the baby, yes? Come in. I'm Amanda, by the way."

"Uh yeah, lawyers. That's right. "

He entered the house wondering what the hell was going on.

"The Brethren said they had lawyers who would ensure that everything was legal and above board."

Ohhhh…

"So you've met with the Brethren?"

"Oh yes. They've been very sweet, looking after me, bringing me shakes…." Her voice tailed off as though she knew that she was fooling no-one, least of all herself.

"You know they're demons?"

She nodded and smiled. "But you can't hold that against them can you?"

Her bright smile hid a depth of desperation and he felt a tug of sympathy for her.

"So why are you here?" she asked. "My appointment at your offices isn't due for another two weeks,.

"The details of the contract are intricate, so I've been asked to come and see you?"

That was such a crap excuse. No self-respecting lawyer would approach anyone except the client. She was bound to see through it…. Instead she merely nodded wearily.

"Because of his illness? Come with me."

She took him to a dimly lit room.

"I insisted on looking after him at home. You know, thought it would help him to have me around…"

She turned to Spike.

"Silly really but you hear the miracle stories of people coming out of comas when they hear a certain voice. They always seem to happen to someone else though, don't they? He doesn't know me. He doesn't respond. I think he's never going to."

This was the first time she had been able to talk about her predicament. Who could she tell such a bizarre tale to? Tears were blinked away and she stared at Spike pleading for him to understand.

"I have no choice. We have no money and there's nothing I can do for him." She gave a pitiable laugh. "Except turn him every few hours to prevent bedsores…"

Her voice rose and her laugh was nothing more than a painful, sawing noise. When Spike put a hand to her shoulder she fell into his arms and cried on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I've tried to be strong and practical but sometimes… What can I do? I give them this baby and they'll feed it, care for it, it'll be well treated…. He'll be worshipped. In return they make my Paulie well again. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to choose?"

They obviously had skipped the Gordabach part. Worshipped and pampered until he was thirteen and then an excruciating death. A sacrificial offering to bring about their demon messiah.

"It's ok, Pet. I'm not judging you."

"Maybe I judge myself."

Spike had no answer and just rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

"Come and sit down. You must be what? Third trimester?"

"Well into it. Five weeks left, is all. Thirty-eight weeks they classed as full term, guess that's why they want me to sign up by then. They'll take him away. They say it'll be less painful for me if I don't see him."

"Yeah, I bet they do."

She took a breath and straightened up. It was all too late, she'd made her choice.

"Anyway, the contract needs to state that Paul will be made completely whole, mentally and physically."

"Uh huh. Got it."

And no way was that unborn kid going to end up fodder for some demon religion. He could imagine how hurt Angel would be to see another baby snatched away.

Spike had always been a secular demon, but he felt that pretty soon he might have the sudden urge to get religion…

oooo

The Fell Brethren, the Senator, Sebassis, Izzy and possibly some of his cohorts, gave Angel a healthy list of potential allies. Not keen to deal with the powerful Archduke until he had formulated a strategy, he considered his other two options.

He'd heard of the Fell but knew very little about them, other than they kept to themselves and were deeply religious. Religion or politics? Who would he rather deal with, another god as bad as or worse than Jasmine, or a politician? No competition. He called Wesley and asked him to extract all they held on the religion and beliefs of the Fell.

Wes smiled.

"I take it that you and Spike are talking again?"

"What? No…."

"Oh. I'm sorry… it's just that, these books? Spike already has them. If you want them you'll have to ask him, I'm afraid. What is this sudden interest in religion?"

"Never mind," Angel replied, "I'll give them a miss for now."

Spike was ahead of him and already working that angle, so he needed to concentrate on the Senator.

He cursed quietly.

Jesus, he hated human politics and all the associated machinations. What a cornucopia of goodies for an enterprising demon, the one place you could openly eat the innocent alive and spit them out to rounds of applause.

He called for recent newspapers that contained any articles on Senator Brucker.

This Brucker had been the focus of much attention, although it appeared that interest in her was clearly declining…. Seemed that the Mike Connolly juggernaut had overtaken her campaign and left it spinning in his tailwind.

Hmmm. Maybe this was an opportunity to win her around, if he could just find ideas to get her campaign back on track... So, what made a politician successful? He frowned, not having voted since… well ever, he had no idea what issues won votes. He supposed he'd have to trawl back through old papers and find out why certain people flourished and others were left standing.

He'd been buried in paper for half the day. Now he was agonisingly bored and still no closer to finding any answers.

His mind drifted to Spike. He was missing him and his cutting comments and incisive insights. Suddenly Angel didn't want to be by himself. Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. Having company would distract him, and at the same time he could glean the opinions of his colleagues regarding the enigma of politics.

He hovered awkwardly in the doorway

"Hey Wes."

That sounded casual, sociable even.

"Angel?" Wes looked up in surprise. "Is there something you wanted?"

"Uh no…"

Spike could do casual conversation… what would he have said?

"Do you want to go for a drink?"

"A drink? With you?"

He was frowning and Angel had a sudden thought, what with falling out with Spike and everything, perhaps Wes thought….

"It's not a date or anything…"

Wesley was now thoroughly flustered.

"I never thought…"

He finally struck inspiration and wielded his coffee cup with barely disguised relief.

"I have a drink, already… thanks."

"Oh…. I just thought that you Gunn, Fred and Lorne have been working hard recently. We could take an hour out and just catch up… but if you don't want to…"

"That's… Actually that's very thoughtful of you," Wesley's face gradually relaxed into a smile, making Angel embarrassed that he hadn't genuinely considered taking them for a drink before.

"I know a charming little bar quite nearby. Give us ten minutes. I'll tell the others."

Angel contained a sigh of relief that it was all being arranged for him. Why did he do this to himself? The only company he really wanted was Spike's.

oooo

"Well I always like to know their platform of policies," Wesley explained.

"Exactly! Education, women's rights…"

"Well, I just like to see a black man up there," Gunn admitted.

Fred hesitated.

"Well… to be honest, if there was little to choose between two candidates and one was a woman..."

"It's natural. We're drawn to people who we believe are similar to us."

"Don't listen to them Angelbuns. It's nothing complicated." Lorne waved his hands expressively. "It's about personality. If a politician doesn't have one then he has his speechwriters craft one. If he's bad, he just has to make his opponent out to be worse. People try to choose the lesser of two evils. . And that's politics for you. Simple. And remember, politicians are kinda like diapers, they have to be changed regularly and for the same reason."

"They get dirty and begin to stink." Gunn explained.

"I knew that." Angel frowned slightly.

The others looked uncomfortable. Of course Angel knew about diapers

"Isn't that a little cynical?" Fred asked.

"We're in the media age, people. Platforms and news? Pfft. They want a bright smile, pithy slogans and catchy opening tunes that they can clap along to. It's about soundbytes and image."

Angel looked towards the others.

"Depressing. But probably true," Fred agreed sadly.

Wesley looked as if he was about to comment and then something seemed to catch his eye.

"Right, another drink everyone? Angel would you care to give me a hand?"

He was chivvied from his seat in rather a rush.

"Whoa! You really are thirsty, aren't you?"

"Parched," Gunn confirmed.

"So move your cute tush to the bar," Lorne encouraged.

Angel obeyed, a little stunned that someone thought his backside was cute, he wondered if Spike thought so too. He was attempting to think of a conversational gambit that might give Spike a chance to comment, and so was a little distracted as he approached the others. Which is why it wasn't until he was about to seat himself that he noticed their private booth had an extra occupant, chatting easily with the others. Until Angel appeared. They simultaneously noticed each other.

"What do you think…?"

"What are you…?"

They turned to glare at the others.

"You said he wouldn't be here!"

"Sorry Spikey. This is an intervention," Lorne explained.

Angel frowned.

"Intervention? What gives you the right to interfere in our lives?"

"Why can't you lot keep your bloody noses out of our business!"

Wesley broke the awkward silence.

"I'm glad to see that you two can agree on some things. As for it being none of our business? I believe you're both forgetting that it is our business. When our CEO and Head of Special Projects stop speaking to each other it affects the whole Company."

"Gotta agree with the Milky Bar Kid, you can't carry on like this," Lorne agreed, "The whole Company is humming with tensions, rumours are rife and employees are taking sides. Animosity is crawling out of the woodwork. Hell they're starting websites, the Angelites and the Spikophiles. I mean I'm all for healthy competition…."

Wesley regarded them seriously.

"Totally unacceptable. Frankly, if you two haven't sorted your differences by tomorrow then I'm cancelling the morning meeting. We refuse to sit through another one like today's."

They began to slide out of their seats.

"We'll uh… leave you two to it," Fred said, concern written large in her eyes.

They were gone without a backward glance, leaving Angel and Spike alone.

"He just cancelled MY morning meeting!"

"We just got bollocked by Greenfingers!"

"Who the hell do they think they are?"

"Too bloody right!"

"I'll haul Wesley before a disciplinary!"

"Uh… Will you? Cus he's a bit soft and all that, but funny enough, I wouldn't cross him…"

"Soft? Be careful of him, Spike. He's the type that does whatever's necessary… one day I'll tell you about Pylea. In fact, if I was ever asked to choose a successor for this Company, he'd come a very close second."

Spike frowned.

"Who's first?"

Angel looked confused.

"Well… you."

"Oh."

Angel shook his head and brought the conversation back to the point.

"We've split the Company in two."

"Yeah."

"Izzy said he was an Angelite."

So Angel was working on Izzy which probably meant he had the other three as well. Angelite….

Their eyes met and a look of understanding passed between them as they shared the implications. Black Thorn was dividing into camps, closely imitating what was happening within the Company, which meant that they were getting nearer to the open warfare that Gunn had mentioned.

Spike could feel himself flush. He was such an idiot! Angel had been smart, engineering a rift between them and he'd behaved like a lovelorn teenager. Yet surely he had reason, the thing with Nina had felt real….

It was almost as though Angel read his thoughts.

"About Nina."

Angel took a deep, calming breath before continuing.

"I'm sorry. I was trying to make you jealous. It wasn't what you thought. Even when I was a puppet, it was still all about you."

Spike looked up in surprise. It was the one explanation that had never occurred to him. He buried his hands in the pockets of his coat and toed the ground thoughtfully, before regarding Angel with serious eyes.

"Uh. I'm sorry, too. It must have been very difficult seeing to yourself with puppet hands."

Angel nodded gravely.

"Impossible."

"I should have helped you out. One day I'll be fantasising about puppet sex and kicking myself that I missed the opportunity."

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

Angel's body almost sagged with relief. They were back to normal again and he wanted nothing more than to pounce, pin his Childe down with the weight of his own body and lie covering him, never moving again, let time stop and hold them forever in its frozen clutches. He sometimes wondered if Spike truly understood how much he was loved.

He took a step back. It was time to go on with the show but at least they understood each other.

"I've apologised! What the hell do you want me to do? Crawl at your feet?"

Their plan depended on them being in conflict, but fighting was the last thing on their minds. Spike contained a smirk at the thought of having his Sire at his feet. Angel realised what he was thinking and he could feel frustration rising within, the need to touch his childe was overwhelming. Why did Spike have to stand there looking so beautiful and sexy, the filthy grin on his face, matching perfectly the thoughts in his head?

This time, however, Spike was determined to play his part in deepening the rift.

"You'd enjoy that wouldn't you? Becoming my bitch?"

Angel's eyes darkened as he snarled, drawing back his fist, knowing that this was the only way he could touch what he wanted to hold and keep. However, Spike was prepared for the reaction.

The next day a hefty bill turned up in Accounts, courtesy of the charming little bar.

Angel and Spike did not appear that morning. The rumour was that they'd dusted each other. However, they both turned up in the afternoon, and any disappointment that might have been felt was alleviated by the blood, bruises, Spike's pronounced limp and Angel's inability to sign any documents with his mangled right hand.

Not much work occurred in the W&H offices that afternoon, too busy with gossip, quarrels and stand up fights, as they alternatively denigrated and protected the good or bad names of their chosen vampire.

These vampires watched and listened as the tension within the Company wound tighter with each passing hour. Even though they couldn't talk or touch, they felt closer than ever. It reminded them of the days when they'd walked the world as though it belonged to them.

Angel revelled in the feeling of once again being the protagonist, making things happen, controlling and manipulating. Spike couldn't help his pleasure at seeing the old gleam in his Sire's eyes as they worked with all their old synchronicity. It was as if the clocks had turned back a hundred years and Angelus and William the Bloody were playing their victims in another elaborate charade. But this time their victims were the Circle of the Black Thorn, the most voracious predators the world had seen.

Their blood sang to the danger, as they attempted the most audacious play of their unlives.


	12. Part 12

Uh huh. I know you're shocked - two chapters in two days! As a little apology for the previous 2 month wait.

Summary: It's all going to plan for Angel and Spike. Of course it is. A Spike plan - what could possibly go wrong?

Warning: Some strong language

Feedback: Please let me know what you think

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to stars for her fantastic support and beta, all mistakes due to after-beta tinkering

**The Relevance of Spike**

**Part 12**

Wesley glanced up to find Spike standing at his desk. He straightened and pushed himself back slightly, attempting to look relaxed, but suspecting he was fooling no one.

"Spike?"

The vampire lifted distracted eyes from their intense examination of the office floor.

"Yeah, need some info and you know a lot of stuff…"

Wesley remembered the last time Spike had complimented him on his knowledge.

"If you're going to ask me if Buddha is a Silth demon…"

"Nah, nothing like that…. Buddha was a Silth?"

Wesley contained a private smirk and Spike's lips twitched reluctantly into a smile, acknowledging that he had been tripped by his own flagstone. His good grace surprised the human, who had been expecting snarkiness and profanities. But if he found the vampire confusing and impenetrable, then the feeling was mutual. There was something about this human Spike couldn't quite suss.

"What do you want Spike?" Wesley made an effort to smother their moment of camaraderie and understanding. For a moment, he had caught something genuine, and almost understood why Angel loved him. "Because I'm not entirely sure I'm in the mood to talk with you or Angel until your childishness ends."

Spike wondered how to navigate through this, and finally decided on a certain bluntness.

"Trust us, yeah? We know what we're doing." Honesty persuaded him to add, "Sort of."

"Trust…! Oh sorry, you're serious." The smile faded and Wesley slowly nodded, not convinced, but aware that perhaps that there was more happening than met the eye. "So… you have a question?"

"I'm researching pregnancy…"

"That begs a question…."

"Natural curiosity?"

"You're not pregnant are you?" Wesley was only half joking, given the weirdness that passed as their lives.

"Sod off! I worry about you sometimes, Percy, I really do."

"Then what?" Wesley pushed back his glasses. "Is this about Connor?"

"Connor? Yeah… Connor. So how early can a baby be born without harming it?"

Wesley frowned. He didn't see the connection to Connor.

"I think these days, generally from twenty-five weeks infants survive with medical attention, steroids, etcetera. From thirty-six weeks onwards they require only the bare minimum of medical attention."

"So up to four weeks early and everything's normal?"

"I don't understand why you need to know this. Babies tend to come along when they're ready."

"Yeah, they do, don't them…?" Spike thought for a moment, "So how would you go about inducing labour?"

Wesley's frown deepened, not comfortable with where this conversation was going.

"I wouldn't. Nor should you."

"But supposing the baby was in danger, you know, if it went full term."

"Oh! Medical reasons." Wesley sighed his relief. "I believe the common drug is Pitocin. There are other more traditional methods, however. Castor oil, nipple stimulation, sex, black and blue cohosh…"

"Uh huh. Do they work?"

"They can help stimulate contractions, but only if the Mother is ready to give birth."

Wesley was curious, had had to admit that even after all this time, he didn't really have a handle on this oddest of vampires.

"Oh. So Pitocin…?"

Just then, Spike caught sight of one of Izzy's cronies.

"It's ok, cheers for that, Watcher. Gotta go. Catch you later."

Turning to the door, he haled the demon. "Chey? Wait up a minute!"

The demon looked surprise.

"Spike?"

"Yeah. Just want to say, you know, no hard feelings."

He patted the demon on his back and then turned to leave, but halted in his tracks as Chey grabbed his arm.

"Hard feelings? About what?"

Spike shook off the hand, saying with a frown, "Well, word is that Izzy had a 'secret'," Spike fingered quotation marks around the word, "meeting with Angel…"

"He what?"

"He's your head honcho, ain't he? S'pose he didn't think it was your business to know. Anyway, he told Angel that you lot were all rooting for him…."

"The hell we are! Course the guy's not out leader. What made you think that?"

"He does kinda speak for your group, yeah?"

"Uh, kinda not! We're all equals you know, but there he is, pushing himself forward, pretending like he's the man, sticking his long nose into everyone's business. It really pisses me off watching him take the credit for whatever we do. Shit, we he haven't even discussed which candidate to favour yet."

Chey was turning blue with anger.

"Huh. That don't sound very fair. I just assumed that he made your decisions. I mean, you do tend to fade into the background, and then what with seeing his piccy wherever I go…."

"We're there, whoring our backsides off to gather more souls, whilst he's messing around with pathetic attempts at self-publicity. It makes him feel important, but everyone else finds it irritating and more than a little uncool. Wherever there's an artist, there he is being clever, tempting them and all. Everyone knows he just wants the fame of being in their work. He's nothing but a laughing stock!"

"Tell me about it. Did you ever meet Angelus? Now there was one who loved grabbing the limelight. We were the frigging Fanged Four. Worked together you know, but guess who gets the title Scourge of Europe. Tosser."

"And the way he sucks up to the people in power, takes the praise and the glory, thinking he's so goddamned fly…" Chey was becoming ever more irate.

"That's the way things are. World's divided into people who do the work and people who take the credit."

"You talk a lot of sense, Pal."

"Not that you'd think it from the way Angel goes on."

Chey regarded him with genuine empathy, he'd found a brother under the skin.

"Hey, don't worry about that, man. No one really listens to what he says anyway. Sure some people are easily impressed by reps, but it seems to me you've done just as much as he has."

"He seems to crave the attention, always seen that as a weakness of me Sire's. So Izzy don't tell you what to do then?"

"Is that what he told Angel? This has gone on for centuries and we've foolishly turned a blind eye to it, but he has really overstepped the mark this time…." Chey's anger was turning to cold calculation and Spike took the opportunity to feed it a little more.

"Seems to me he's assuming you lot are soft. Hey, just how it looks from the outside." Spike held up his hands, disclaiming all responsibility for such a view. "Surprised you allow it though, least I make the effort to show Angel the error of his ways."

They watched from the gallery as Angel walked across the lobby, clutching his injured hand, signs of their fight displayed on his body.

"I'm thinking you have the right idea my friend. Time my self-styled leader was put back in his place."

"Yeah. Can't just let him walk all over you, can you, else where will it all end?"

Chey nodded his vehement agreement, and Spike, satisfied that his job was done, decided to call it a night. He had a meeting first thing in the morning with Vail. Reluctantly he turned away from Angel's private elevator and returned to his empty apartment. Suddenly this plan seemed crap. He wanted to spend tonight with his sire. No, with his lover, he corrected himself. He wanted to feel large hands moving over his skin, covering him possessively….

Yeah, this was a really crap plan.

Angel put down the report that Mede had left for him He grudgingly admitted that it was more than fair, so that was one little drama he could now relegate to the past.

He stared through the glass interior of his office, watching as Spike left for the evening, knowing that he was in for another sleepless night. He couldn't rest these days without Spike's cool body curled up around him. When he was alone he had too much time to think, and his thoughts weren't happy.

Sometimes it was difficult to see how they would survive the outcome of their actions against the Circle. Even if they did, what would be left for them? Unsatisfied longing and need stretched endlessly before them. How long would Spike suffer that deprivation before finding someone else? Angel's face remained blank, but already he was building the whole Spike leaving scenario, envisaging the touching farewell scene: 'Ok, I'm off. See you around, Poof.' Leaving Angel staring after him, doomed to face an eternity of empty days…

He sighed and wondered what affect sleeping tablets had on vampires.

It was important he was fresh and clear-headed for the morning. Thanks to the discussion in the bar, Angel felt remarkably enlightened, and at least had an idea of how to approach Senator Brucker. Before he could change his mind he had called to arrange an appointment, and the Senator had eagerly cleared her diary for him. They were scheduled to meet at 9.00am. Even fully alert, this would be a tough test of his newly awakened political acumen.

Unfortunately, his prediction proved all to true, without Spike to distract him from brooding, he hardly closed his eyes, and appeared the following morning looking tired and feeling irritable.

The Senator was already waiting for him, well groomed and alert, clearly impatient for this meeting.

He painted on a smile that surely every politician worldwide would recognise from their mirrors, and approached with his hand thrust out ready for the enthusiastic handshake, carefully hiding his reaction as he caught her scent and realised she wasn't human. That solved the puzzle of how a human had been accepted into the Circle, he briefly wondered what had happened to the original Brucker.

His smile widened to camouflage the fact that he hated her on sight.

Her bodyguard of vampires demanded virgins' blood, his hackles rose, but he clenched the smile into place and remained carefully bland as they began negotiating the fall of Mike Connolly and the corresponding rise of Senator Brucker.

oooo

So here he was, back in the basement again. Sodding basements, he was growing to hate the bleedin' places. Anyway, no Izzy this time. Seemed lines had already being drawn and Vail and Izzy were on opposite sides.

Vail didn't bother with niceties or mince his words. "I've been delegated to watch you."

Spike merely shrugged his unconcern at this piece of information.

"A voyeur? Hope you enjoyed the ride in the elevator."

"The elevator?" Vail merely nodded without interest. "I'm beyond animalistic bodily pleasures."

"Huh. There's a lot to be said for bodily pleasures. So what rocks your boat?" Spike asked, without any real interest.

Vail was thoughtful and then indicated his trolley of fluids and tubes.

"You see this?"

"Uh huh."

"I am not immortal, but despite that I've outlived many other so-called immortals."

He gave a thin smile, inordinately proud that he had watched so many immortals pass from the world. Of course, some had needed a helping hand….

"Interesting. How d'yer manage that then?"

Cyvus was only too happy to discuss his own ingenuity.

"I discovered a way of using unspent life-force. Everything has a time to die; I cut the thread early and steal the years allotted to them. They seem to find it excruciatingly painful. If you listen carefully you can still hear their screams reverberating around this room."

He shivered in pleasure. Spike merely nodded, trying to tamp down the fearful shrieks that echoed in sympathy within his own memory.

"As they scream, their life pours into me. It's unlike anything I've ever experienced, every cell explodes with it. For some reason the youngsters have the best flavour."

"It sounds like taking blood."

"Maybe you do understand, but it's so much more potent than blood. An average child, who may sustain you for a few days, will keep me alive for another eighty years. Can you imagine that sort of power coursing through your body?"

"Incredible."

"Indeed." Vail's eyes were watering at the thought.

Spike cleared his throat. "So you were saying that you've been assigned to spy on me?"

Vail immediately returned to the point of his comment with the acuity seldom seen in the very old.

"I've noticed your interest in the Fell Brethren. Let's say I'm curious."

A nod of acknowledgement, as though Spike had expected the topic to rear its head. "Fair enough. It's not me who has secrets to hide."

The balding head tilted in curiosity and Spike continued.

"You're a sorcerer right? So, tell me, when you cast your enchantments, which gods answer you?"

Vail regarded him with ancient eyes, unfazed by the apparent change in direction.

"I am favoured by many gods…."

"Including the Fell?"

"The god of the Fell prefers to keep power exclusively for his followers."

"Where will you be in thirteen years, after Gordabach?"

"I've never had much interest in religion, but I believe this is the coming of the Fell messiah you're speaking of?"

"Got it in one. But you're kind of missing the point. Have you never read the prophecy, mate?"

Cyvus merely looked, awaiting an explanation.

"The Fell messiah will banish all other gods from this dimension."

Cyvus eyes narrowed. That point had been carefully glossed over by the Brethren.

Spike continued to push it.

"How much immortality will you have when there's no gods to deal with? A single lifetime at the most?"

That one hit home. The sorcerer was thoughtful as he quickly considered his options. He seemed to reach a conclusion casting a sly sideways look towards Spike.

"You've killed a Chosen One before?"

Spike was unfazed by the question.

"Yeah, but you know how it is for me these days, my every move watched. Gotta keep my hands clean, don't I? Just thought I'd give you the heads up, in appreciation of the support you gave me the other day."

"And I appreciate your consideration…. I could be even more appreciative." He licked his thin lips. "I'm too old for subtlety, so tell me; can you make the child disappear if I give you a few hours when no one can pry?"

"Can you make the kid's father well again?" Spike responded.

Cyvus waved a papery hand.

"It was magical anyway, the Fell aren't the most sophisticated of demons. I can break it, don't you worry about that, child."

The word child held echoes of Angelus/Angel and it dawned on Spike that Cyvus regarded him in the light of a protégé. Family maybe….

"In that case…." Spike nodded his agreement, his lips curling into a humourless smile.

"You're planning on the child being born before its time and then buying it with the same coin the Brethren offered?" Cyvus guessed.

"More or less."

"The child will always be Chosen. We will never be safe unless the child dies before its thirteenth birthday."

"Or lives beyond it."

"There won't be a safe place left for him. Where would you hide him for thirteen years?"

Spike gave a non-committal grunt. "Yeah, but as long as I hold him alive I'll own the Brethren. What wouldn't they do to guarantee his safety?"

Cyvus still looked discontent.

"Anyway, how's my nomination going? Have you told them I'm a candidate?" Spike attempted to distract him.

"I have, to a mixed reception, as anticipated." Vail gave a shrug. "Izzy is causing ill feeling by pushing his candidate hard. That group could be trouble. If you have their Chosen One, you'll hold the Brethren in the palm of your hands. I'm assuming you know the Fell Brethren Grand Potentate is part of the Circle. In fact," eyes narrowed to gleaming gimlets, "I'm guessing that somehow you know most of the members."

"Maybe I could make a couple of educated guesses."

Cyvus gave the laugh that squeaked like the opening of an old, un-oiled door.

"I'm sure you could. Be warned, however, not everyone is as trusting as I am. Some are waiting for a gesture of ultimate evil…."

"Yeah, like what?"

Thin shoulders hunched into s shrug, "I'm sure you'll think of something."

Spike said nothing. That was a sticking point and no mistake.

oooo

The atmosphere at the W&H offices became increasingly explosive. No one would have bees surprised if the floors had begun to heave and buckle as the powder keg they worked on top of awaited that stray spark.

Urgent whispers in secluded corners faded to suspicious glances at unwanted intruders. Secrets and plots were thick in the air. Hissed arguments flashed into violence. Two of Izzy's colleagues were notable by their absence. Don had disappeared into thin air but Chey turned up later that week.

Dead.

He'd been overheard exchanging angry words with Izzy, who happened to have a cast-iron alibi for the time of Chey's death. Consensus of opinion stated, in the cynical tone reminiscent of Christine Keeler: well he would, wouldn't he?

Suddenly this was no longer an intricate plan. It was an actual play, one that was succeeding. Angel and Spike had kept their hands clean and still managed to get the first member killed. Now it became dangerous for them all.

If that were the only death that week they would have been quietly satisfied, but the following day an overall shit week ended with a hell of a day. It happened so suddenly. How could so much change in the course of one terrible day?

She died.

Their girl died.

It was that sudden. Alive. Dead. And now everything was flying apart. Knox had made the play and Gunn had unwittingly sealed the deal.

It hit each of them hard, pulling out the very guts of their team. Confusion, disbelief, anger warred within them, along with the need to fix this greatest of wrongs. When all their efforts failed, that need faded to frustration, followed by a kind of dumbfounded acceptance.

She'd brought them so much. Her sweet affection, wide smile, and mixture of intelligence, commonsense and compassion that was so rare in this world. Now there was a hole in their heads, where Fred used to live. Just a dark pit to be carefully skirted around, else they'd tumble into the emptiness she left behind. For such a slender girl she'd left a damned big hole.

Angel and Spike were helpless. There was nothing left, neither bargain to be struck nor last minute reprieve. They had failed their girl.

Gunn was guilt-ridden. There was no atonement for this sin.

When people asked why, he had no answer. To plead that he wanted to remain an educated man sounded unbelievable even to his own ears. Half a dozen years of hard work would have seen him educated. But no, he went for the swipe of the pen approach and proved its lethal power once again. His signature on a single piece of paper traded those six years for everything that had made up Fred. He could have pleaded that he didn't know, didn't understand, but that was crap. He'd known it would be someone. Someone who deserved better than this betrayal for his own intellectual vanity. If he ever heard another Gilbert and Sullivan it would be too soon, he despised every false memory.

Wesley had been with her as she faded, speaking words of love and comfort. She knew she was dying and fought against it bitterly. It was a battle she was destined to lose. He held her and wept with her, as her fevered body, heated and then slowly cooled. Her coldness leeched all human warmth from him, leaving a cavernous wasteland of glittering icicles, cruel and sharp and cutting, in the place that had once flowered in the warmth of her smile and beat to the rhythm of life.

She'd filled his mind almost entirely. The absence of her left him hollowed out and profoundly empty. Empty-eyed, empty-hearted, empty-souled. More of a ghost than Spike had ever been.

Then there was Illyria who inhabited the shell of their beautiful girl, alien in her looks and her thinking, powerful beyond their imagining. Raging against the world she had found herself trapped in and the puny body that held her essence. Wesley watched her with the deep morbidity of loss. In return, she found herself watching his reactions to her with something close to curiosity in her fathomless eyes.

He looked rough, with his unshaven jaw and the feverish eyes of a driven man.

He couldn't stop searching for an answer. If only he just looked hard enough, long enough, in the right place, in the wrong place, then the next book, the next spell would have him snapping his fingers and saying, "I've got it!" She would be back by his side with her laughing eyes and razor intelligence, loving him once more.

The more he learnt about what had occurred, the more he despaired. Hope was packing its bags and leaving town. Yet he couldn't stop searching, knew he would continue searching for the answer for the rest of his life.

Spike looked up as he entered and recognised the haunted eyes. It recalled memories of Red after she had lost Glinda…. Yeah, Tara, that had been her name, another sweet girl. Seemed like the best of humanity were being called home.

"Wes… Mate…."

"Spike. I've changed my mind. Who am I to deny anyone whatever chance of happiness they might have? And if it goes wrong, well at least you know you tried."

Spike frowned.

"Uh. Got me at a loss, Percy. What yer talking about?"

"Angel and his soul."

Spike regarded him intently. A thread of worry drew a line between his eyebrows.

"You said it was too dangerous. That there was a chance that Angelus might return…."

"The plan is dependent on him returning."

Spike's jaw fell open as he gaped in shock.

"Bloody hell! Are you completely addled? You've met him, ain't yer?"

"Yes, of course I have, and maybe I am a little crazy. I think you have to be to live in this world."

"Supposing he tries to kill you all, or drags the world into hell?"

"There is that," Wesley answered, straightening his glasses. "I'm allowing you this information because, frankly? I'm not sure if I even care anymore. One day you might have to join me, watching the shell of the person you love. Perhaps I don't want to help you. Maybe it's punishment for allowing her to die."

Spike blinked.

"We didn't…"

"She's dead, isn't she?"

He felt his culpability deeply, whilst acknowledging that there was nothing else he could have done.

"To save her would have meant we slaughtered thousands. What the were we supposed to do?"

His anguished voice pleaded for the human to understand, but Wesley's eyes remained cold.

"And if it had been Angel and not her?"

"I'd have made the same choice," Spike replied. However, he wasn't altogether sure if that was true, maybe he'd damn the world to hell before allowing Angel to leave him again, and he sent up a prayer to whoever listened to ensouled vampires to save him from ever making such a decision.

"So, Angel…. What do I have to do?"

"It's easy really. Give him perfect happiness and bring back Angelus."

"I hope there's a bit more to the plan than that. It seems a little short on results."

"I never got the chance to work out the details, but my thought was that happiness depends on the perceptions of the person doing the re-souling spell. The gypsies and Willow both had traditional views of happiness. Supposing Angelus was re-souled by something evil and its very definition of happiness was so outside the boundaries that Angel would never achieve it? Murdering children, destroying worlds, whatever, as long as it's not saving the world and making love with someone he's in love with."

"Would it work?"

"I believe so. The first time he lost his soul by making love to the girl of his dreams. The second time, when the shaman gave him his false moment of perfect happiness, the rules had subtly changed. He saved the world, became reconciled with all his friends and family, as well as making love with someone he cared for. Because it was no longer a gypsy curse, it was Willow's curse. She had spent years helping Buffy fight evil and save the world. Her idea of perfect happiness was slightly more sophisticated. Take that one step further and have the spell performed by someone with a totally alien idea of happiness and you see the possibilities?"

"How will I get someone evil to re-soul Angelus?"

"I've given you the broad outline. It's up to you what you do with it."

"I won't be able to tell Angel. Angelus would have to think I wanted him back. Even so, he still might kill me."

"Yes, it's a definite possibility. I'll leave it in your hands."

"Bugger you, Watcher! Why the hell did you have to tell me?"

"To give you a chance I'm never going to have," he replied with quiet dignity, and left Spike alone with his dilemma.

The more Spike thought about it, the more unworkable it became. Hell, how was he supposed to give Angel perfection? He'd have to be reconciled with his friends, feel like he was winning the fight against evil and then finally the small point of actually loving Spike enough to reach the final high. Then if he did achieve all this, he would have the equally impossible task of dealing with Angelus. Whichever way he turned it, it was impossible. Not only impossible, but probably one of the most dangerous, riskiest gambles he'd ever attempted.

Although, that wouldn't necessarily have daunted him, he was never one to turn down a challenge. Nevertheless, one consideration far outweighed everything else. It would mean betraying Angel. It was one thing to knock him out for a few minutes, but this would be unforgivable, and frankly, he couldn't do it. Wouldn't do it, not even to give Angel his most wished for desire.

But a tiny part of his brain called him on his decision and mocked his altruism, suggesting the reason he refused was that Angel would then have his choice of lovers and the world and his dog knew that in this situation Spike would be very far from his first choice.

Yet he couldn't stop thinking about Wesley's theory.

It seemed to him that there was an almighty flaw in it. The Willow who had re-souled Angel the second time had been a vastly different person to the naive girl attempting her first spell. She had tasted power, caused pain and death, and emerged the other side. Who knew what defined her version of perfect happiness?

Ah well. Since he wasn't going to do it anyway, he guessed it wasn't worth worrying about.

oooo

Izzy's eyes gleamed with approval.

"A little birdie has told me you arranged the death of the girl, one of your own. The Circle is impressed."

"Huh. Guess we have a talkative little bird. It told me you had a hand in the death of Chey and the disappearance of Don.…"

"Touché. I take your point and one doesn't like to boast…." Izzy's grin hid his anxiety, if the Circle believed he had killed them then there would be repercussions. He shivered slightly, who would believe his innocence when he sometimes doubted it himself? Someone was setting him up, but for what exactly?

"Come with me you might be interested in this. It spells the end of all your problems. Well, one little problem in particular."

Angel followed curiously, as Izzy sprang up the stairs. They leant together on the chrome balustrade. Angel started fidgeting, Spike would be due in soon and he wanted to be able to watch him from the privacy of his office. Eventually his restlessness won out.

"Ok. I've played this game, whatever it is, but now I have work to do."

"Hush. Here he is." Izzy's eyes were bright, his tongue almost lolling out of his mouth with anticipation.

Angel watched as Spike pushed through the doors and swept in. His guts clenched with anxiety.

"What? What have you done?" His voice was almost lost in fear, emerging in a low whisper.

Spike was directly beneath them.

"See that man over there?" He pointed out a small, plump man who was sweating profusely as he approached Spike. "Watch him carefully. He didn't need much persuading, I can tell you. Seems he was next in line for the Special Projects post, before it was given to the upstart."

Angel's fear only increased, he could have sworn he heard echoes of his dead heart pounding in his ears.

Izzy didn't notice Angel's reaction and blithely continued, "Remember that poison that nearly killed you a few years back?"

The poison? Spike was going to be poisoned?

However, the man had passed him, and Angel began to relax, seemed the guy had lost his bottle. Then he noticed Izzy straining forward, eyes intent on the scene below. He also returned his gaze to the unfolding tableau and realised that the man had immediately turned, a small pipe raised to his lips. He was within feet of Spike, he couldn't miss.

Angel reacted quickly, grabbing Izzy and jumping, landing between Spike and the man.

Izzy stumbled and fell, Spike went reeling and the man allowed the emptied blowpipe to drop from his lips. Angel's fist smashed into the side of his smug, fat head. The punch flung the man backwards and he landed like a dead weight against the far wall.

Spike was lying motionless on the floor and Izzy was shouting something.

Angel had seen Spike injured before, but before he had been his childe, now he was his lover. And that made all the difference in the world.

This poison meant death, he'd tasted it himself and he could taste it again, like ashes in his mouth. His blood was curdling and his soul shrinking away in fear.

Perception faded to a pinpoint, he heard and saw nothing except Spike. Every sense was focused on the body lying on the tiled ground. He was in a bubble of his own where all that existed was Spike and the hollow roar in his ears. In slow motion, he walked towards the prone figure and the whole world waited the next moments with baited breath.

"Spike?"

(An echo sounded through the years, a girl's voice…. "Tara?")

He wasn't dust. He was still alive. He searched for hope in the situation.

He could beat this poison. It just needed slayer's blood. Buffy would fly in for him. Buffy was too far away. There were other slayers. But none would voluntarily give blood to a vampire. He would kidnap one. They were strong and well organised. They'd probably stake him. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad….

So his brain skittered over the problem as he took his steps towards Spike.

There was blood staining the pristine white of his shirt.

("Your shirt…")

Angel knelt next to him, cradling his head in his lap, stroking his brow.

"Spike? William? Stay with me, stay with me Will. Please…"

("Tara? Come, on baby. Get up. Please. Tara...")

Angel's hand withdrew from the back of Spike's neck. It was red with blood. He stared at it, almost with incomprehension. Angel could see no way out. He could almost feel the pain of the poison moving like red heat through his own veins.

He gently laid Spike back down and turned to the people who watched. Words were beginning to penetrate his brain. "Assassination" was being whispered around the building and bouncing off the walls. It was threaded through with grief, fear, triumph. His eyes flecked with gold, as he turned to Izzy who was watching from the floor, his leg twisted under him, unable to move as Angel stalked towards him.

"He was my childe. You understand that. Mine." Angel's words were almost conversational, his face was death.

"What… what are you doing?" Izzy whispered, his brow furrowed and blank eyes sparked with fear.

"Hush." Angel whispered and crouched next to him.

(He was babbling in fear. "Shhh," her voice soothed, but her eyes were black.)

"I'm sorry… just … no! Please." Izzy's voice rose as he recognised the icy gaze of death.

(Warren cried out in terror, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry, all right? I'm sorry!")

Then Izzy moved a hand and revealed the small black feathered dart on the side of his face. Maybe in all the commotion he hadn't registered it was there.

Angel stared hardly daring to believe.

"So tell me, what affect would the poison have on you? The same as on Spike? Answer me."

Izzy was gazing in fear. Why weren't the Circle, the Senior Partners stopping this fiasco? The answer came to him; he was being retired.

"Similar but it works more slowly," he answered in a deadened voice.

"Would you find it painful?"

Izzy nodded.

"Good."

"Why? Why!" Izzy slowly brought his hand back to the sting in his cheek and plucked away the dart. Then he began screaming.

Angel looked around at the gathered faces.

"I want held him locked next to Pavaynne and held there until the poison kills him. I want real time pictures of his face displayed on all monitors. Someone see to it."

There was a murmured reaction, carefully muted; eyes that refused to linger on Angel for fear his wrath would turn on them.

Spike lay unconscious, knocked flying by their arrival. Angel realised that the blood was probably from where he'd crashed to the floor, cracking his head on the hard marble.

Angel picked him up and looked down at the stark print of his hand on the floor, inked red with his childe's blood. They had tried to kill his childe. The thought froze him to the marrow; he could feel the ice crackling through his body as though a finger of frost was following the track of his veins

"When this mess is cleaned up I want that handprint left." He looked around. "Do you all understand?"

They understood. The screaming image of Izzy and the bloody print were to be macabre reminders that interfering with Angel and his childe carried its risks.

"Boss?" Harmony approached cautiously. "What do you want me to do with him?"

Angel looked towards the unconscious man. Nothing more than a tool, like the dart the man had attempted to use to send Spike into an agonising death. Angel shuddered. So close. So fragile. Happiness was so damned fragile. He stared at the human who had tried to take away his only light in this grim world.

("It ripped her insides out ... took her light away. From me. From the world.")

"Put him in a holding cell until I'm ready to deal with him."

Harmony displayed her efficiency by lugging the man over her shoulder and dealing with the matter personally.

(Willow stared at the skinned body. She thought it would help, make her happy, but happiness died with her lover and soul mate).

oooo

Spike was stirring.

"What the hell just happened?" he muttered, one hand moving to his bloodied head.

"Izzy tried to have you killed."

Angel sounded remote and unlike his usual self. Spike remembered being knocked from behind, sprawling to the floor and then nothing.

"Huh. Guess that's good in a way. The plan…." He stopped suddenly realising his tongue was moving on without his brain.

"It's alright. The plan kinda got blown out of the water just now. I jumped the balcony trying to reach you. Knocked out a human and Izzy is kind of busy with the dying."

Spike looked in query.

"Seemed like I missed a pretty neat party."

"I lost it and claimed you in front of everyone. The plan is dead. They all know that you're the only thing that matters to me."

That seemed to come as news to Spike.

"You know that don't you?" Angel frowned.

Spike knew it was the shock of the near miss speaking and turned his head away. "You were about to leave me…."

"I was?"

That seemed to come as news to Angel.

"You said that it ain't working between us."

"I did?"

"Yeah, you did."

"If I knew what you were talking about I'd deny it. I remember telling you that I loved you. You know how many people I've said that to? Two."

"The other was Buffy?"

Angel nodded.

"You left her." Spike felt satisfied that his point had been proven.

"That was different. She was sunshine and blue skies. Shit! I never belonged there! I belong to darkness and shadows. I belong with you. You make it bearable. Shit Will! Some days you make it feel like sunshine."

Spike blinked in disbelief.

"After we kind of shagged, you said it wasn't gonna work…."

"I said the curse was too close and having sex wasn't going to be possible!"

"You did?"

"Is that why you were so upset about Nina? You thought it was over?"

Spike said nothing and that was all the answer that Angel needed.

"It will never be over between us. You hear? There's nothing you could say or do that would make me leave you. You can walk away. Hell, you can burn up and die and it'll still never be over between us!"

This brought back the previous half hour to Angel's mind.

"I thought you were gone." His voice tailed off as he relived those minutes. "I thought you were gone and I'd have given the world to hold you one more time. Given my life, my soul to see your eyes open. Why didn't you know how much I cared?"

Suddenly Angel's arms were wrapped gently around him, face buried in his neck.

Spike blinked again, trying to understand this sudden turnabout, and slowly one hand came to rest against Angel's back

"Hey… hush, Pet. I'm here. I'm here, Luv."

"Stay here with me tonight. I need to have you near, I need to hold you. I got it so wrong. Give me a chance to show you how much I care?"

"The curse…."

"I don't mean sex. I guess I'm talking about love."

"I dunno…." Spike was confused. He'd never been the recipient of love, no strings attached. Well, not since his Mum….

"Just lay with me, let me tell you all the ways I love you. All the ways you're beautiful," Angel whispered.

Spike started to smile.

"You sure? You don't do the talking thing very well, Pet."

"Then I'll learn. I nearly lost you and you'd never have known how I felt. If I lose you tomorrow then I'm making sure you know that you're the most precious thing in this damned world."

He pulled Spike close.

Intimate words fell between them like sweet rain, soaked up and swallowed as it flooded through desperately parched wasteland, bringing life to the needy desert, and something precious sprang into existence. Next to Love grew Trust, as strong as the English oak, and in its branches, Belief began to entwine itself.

The words might never be repeated again, but it didn't matter because Spike would remember them for his remaining days.

(She yearned to see her lover one more time, ached to tell her all the truths she had never shared, to hold her the whole night. Willow knew that such perfect happiness could never be hers. Tara was dead and never coming back).

Angel fell asleep with his lover cradled within the protective circle of his arms. His soul mate who he thought was lost.

Jerked into wakefulness by Angel's restlessness, Spike laid a hand on his shoulder. He appeared to be in pain.

Angel opened his eyes wide and his agony curled in the darkness.

"Spike…!"

His eyes squeezed shut as though trying to fight some internal demon.

Spike could only watch in horror. He left the room, leant against a wall and slowly slid to the floor, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. He shook his head in disbelief and reached for his phone.

When he returned Angel was still in the bed, his face scrunched in pain. His hands were clenching at the bars of the headboard, muscles straining and frozen in rictus, as his body arched and spasmed.

Spike sat in the chair in the corner of the room and watched. He lit up a cigarette and could only wait.

Angel appeared to see him and stared at him piteously from darkened eyes. Spike wanted to help him, or that being impossible, just wanted to close his eyes to the agony, but instead his gaze remained steady. He forced himself to watch all that his sire was going through, whilst kaleidoscope thoughts gradually resolved into clarity.

He thought about the curse, considered Willow and what would have made her happiness perfect.

He now knew more than words, how much Angel cared, and was humbled that he could ever be Angel's perfection. Spike felt his body ripping with grief and rage, needing to scream out in protest at this turn of events, cursing his sire's taciturn nature and his own lack of faith, but refusing to give in, knowing he had to stay strong for Angel's sake.

Because it was too late. All choice had been taken from him and he was lost between grief, rage and a fluttering in his stomach that might have been anticipation.

Brown eyes opened and even in the darkness, they gleamed with joy.

"Angelus."

Attention swivelled to the seated figure of his Childe.

"Will," he smiled.


	13. Part 13

For those who thought it abandoned, I am very happy to say that I have finished this fiction! The final five chapters will be posted every couple of days and it will all be up by next Friday. Yay!

Summary: Angelus is back… need I say more

Warning: Some strong language.

Pairing: Angel/Spike

Feedback: Please let me know what you think

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to Stars for her fantastic support and beta, all mistakes due to after-beta tinkering

**Part 13**

"Surprised to see me then, William?" he asked silkily.

A million memories blossomed to that seductive voice. Spike suppressed butterflies inside, which nervously fluttered their bright wings to vermillion-scented recollections.

Angelus. His Sire. Emanating raw power that had the ability to make him feel like a newly risen fledgling, dirt of the grave still fresh under his fingernails. He almost took a breath, but thankfully managed to suppress such weakness. Christ, there was enough riding on the next few days, who could blame his uneasiness?

This unpredictable vampire had full knowledge of all their plans, knew secrets that could destroy him with a word. Although, if Angelus still acknowledged him as family then there was nothing to fear, however, Spike acknowledged that his soul threw the matter into doubt. He walked a knife-edge, and all bets were off.

Yet it was with a profound sense of disquiet that he realised, simmering beneath his reasonable apprehension was an altogether different source to his anxiety. Even after all these years, some part of him yearned for approval from this darkly seductive figure. The thought that his tough as nails veneer had all the depth of eggshell, dismayed him.

Sod it. He blamed the soul for making him soft. In the past one hundred years he'd faced down far more powerful beings than Angelus, and nothing was going to make him regress to needy little fledge. He raised his eyes challengingly. Show no weakness; show no fear. That was the trick to dealing with Angelus. He swallowed his edginess, and kept his reactions reassuringly predictable and Spike-like, intent on swaying Angelus with the sense of familiarity. Blue eyes narrowed to slits, but the string of smoke gave the impression of unaffected nonchalance.

"Surprised? Should I be? After all, me who brought you back, innit?"

Partially illuminated by the smouldering cigarette tip, his face fell into unreadable shadows.

"And why would be you be doing a thing like that, eh?" Disbelief eddied through the darkness, hanging between them as tangible as the cigarette smoke. "I'm thinking you're a little more surprised than you're letting on."

The hint of American accent softened to a faintly Irish burr, as though the demon dwelt somewhere in the past, an anachronism not belonging to this modern world. In some strange way, this echo from their early days was almost comforting, and buoyed Spike's confidence. No weakness, no fear became a mantra running through his head; the repetitive words were oil on water, calming the roiling turbulence beneath.

"What would you know about anything? You ain't been here for the past hundred years."

Misplaced blame and accusations; always a good start. But Angelus heard more in those words, detecting an undercurrent of hurt, which made his heart lurch with delight.

"Aw, you missed me? Seriously, I'm touched. But you know? Always here, despite sometimes wishing I wasn't… made me sick to the stomach listening to the crap he spouted. 'Shall I tell you all the ways I love you? How beautiful you are?'"

The spiteful mockery was clearly intended to wound, but instead of rising to the bait, the corners of Spike's mouth twitched into an answering smile.

"Yeah. Kinda pathetic wasn't it?"

The apparent indifference momentarily floored Angelus. He recovered quickly; giving a small smile of appreciation as he lazily studied his childe. "Bullshit. You expect me to believe that you want me here?"

"Well you're here."

Spike presented undeniable evidence, but Angelus remained unconvinced.

"Another monumental cock-up or just one of your infamous, crackpot plans?" he asked scathingly.

"My plans are works of bleedin' art," Spike protested, but without real ire, it was just another facet of their age-old routine.

"Art? Come on, they don't even look good on paper." Unwavering dark eyes caused Spike to shift uncomfortably. "What's your game, Childe? If you're looking to take me on, I'll show you tortures that creatures from your worst nightmares shrink from. I guess even Hell has an up side… I got to learn from masters of their craft. You really don't want to experience the things I've learnt"

His voice was tar and gravel, a road that could lead nowhere good, but the threat left Spike clearly unmoved.

"Yeah? I'm shitting myself here. Not. Spare me the macho posturing, Mate; had to listen to it a million times before, and it didn't impress the first time around. Anyway, done playing games. You wanna know why you're here?" Spike paused until Angelus nodded him to continue. "The Circle wanted an act of evil. You're it. Well, betraying the Poof was actually it. Whaddya think?" Spike cocked an eyebrow in query.

Memories of Izzy also demanding an act of betrayal shot elements of doubt through his head. Angel had been about to bluff and play the Fred card in this game of betrayal. Too late though, Spike had met him and raised him, and then laid a winning card… if he could be believed.

"I think that you're lying." His voice, the silken glove disguising the iron knuckle-duster. "You managed to figure out a way to bring me back? I think I'd have remembered if we'd…. Huh. There again maybe not…."

He flexed his hand distractedly, seemingly in wonder that it once more obeyed the commands of his demon. He formed it into a fist.

Like a million people before him, Spike attempted to divert the threat of bloodshed by keeping the bully off-balance.

"Yeah well, I always was the brains of the outfit."

Angelus gave a disbelieving snort of laughter and the air of impending violence diffused slightly.

"Right. And I was always the Virgin Mary."

"Whatever. Your soul was tethered by the Witch's vision of happiness, and I'm one of the few people who knew the bint through those years. She learnt the hard way what perfection was. See, I knew what she wanted. Called insight, ain't it?"

"No, it's called bollocks. So her idea of happiness is babbling nonsense…" Then he remembered whom they were talking of. "Actually, I see your point."

"The light dawns," Spike mocked.

Dark eyes reflected back whatever illumination there was, transforming them into gleaming black chips of obsidian.

"Still not convincing me, Spikey, you wouldn't do that to loverboy. I can smell your soul from here, and the stench of it is choking me."

"Stop breathing then, wanker," he muttered beneath his breath.

"What?"

Spike thought better of repeating his incendiary words. The atmosphere still beat with an underlying pulse of dark violence, which he was unwilling to spark into life.

"Just saying, Peaches never really got it and you're making the same mistake."

"Mistake? You think? So, little William, what mistake is this?" His words glittered like shards of glass, traps on which the unwary could cut themselves to ribbons.

The glowing tip of the cigarette carelessly rose and fell, the sharp features thrown into orange relief before fading into darkness as another curl of smoke clouded the air.

"You don't get the difference between being cursed with a soul and earning one. Mine ain't there to punish me. My demon's still as powerful as ever. I ain't some plaything of the Powers. I choose my destiny."

"Maybe, but you didn't arrange for your own assassination… did you?"

Spike briefly wondered whether to lay claim to that feat, but he'd learnt long ago that the secret of a good lie was to hide it amongst truths.

"Course not - just realised what was happening and took advantage of the situation. Flexibility and improvisation, the soul of good planning, ain't that what you used to say? Yeah, I could have stopped him, could have walked away, instead I allowed Angel to have his say, and watched as he disappeared."

Angelus hesitated; he remembered Spike's cool observation as Angel fought tenaciously for his soul. Fought and lost.

"You expect me to believe this happened by choice? You chose me over your lover?"

Spike was beginning to feel flayed, his skin too thin to hold him together for this charade he'd been forced to play, and his shrug was sad, almost imperceptible.

"Ain't asking you to believe nothing. You know the fight I've taken on? Angel blew it big time, so, new plan. You."

Angelus began to laugh, faltered and trailed off.

"Me? I get that. Because I love to take on demons against insurmountable odds…. Not! It's another one of your half-baked, shit, little plans."

"Sodding well bake it then!"

A low growl rose in Angelus' throat and Spike realised he was pushing too hard.

"Uh, okay. No need to be so bloody touchy. Just saying, Angel dropped a bollock. So, you gonna help or what?"

Angelus shifted as though merely getting comfortable, that the cover fell away, revealing his sleekly naked body, was pure chance.

"Why? Why would I want to help? What's in it for me? How are you going to persuade me?" His eyes were bright as one hand trailed suggestively over his chest and stomach.

Spike looked quickly away, pointedly ignoring the heavy-handed attempt at blackmail.

"Cus these demons think they can play you and you've always hated that."

Angelus merely looked amused. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he reached for a pair of pants and pulled them on.

"Hey, it's safe, you can look again now. I don't remember you being so coy. This shy boy act is really kinda cute."

Spike, still desperately attracted to him, refused to resort to sex, realising it would alter the precarious balance between them. Remembering Angel saying that the demon had always cared for his wayward offspring, Spike took a gamble.

"Maybe this will persuade you; they thought they could assassinate your Childe. They don't have the right, Sire. Might have a soul, but still yours."

It seemed he'd said something that struck a chord because suddenly Angelus was towering above him. He almost dropped his cigarette in astonishment. Surely, his sire had never moved that fast?

Stooping down and plucking the burning cylinder from Spike's lifeless fingers, Angelus puckered his lips around it, pulling in a long drag and blowing the smoke to one side of Spike's face.

Licking his lips and staring at the handsome face above him, Spike considered how much younger and more beautiful his sire looked without the weight of sorrow that customarily clouded those coffee-coloured eyes and marred the smooth brow.

The cigarette was ground to a stub on the arm of the chair, then Angelus grasped his shoulders, leant in towards him, as though about to re-enact the kiss to the forehead, but instead shifted at the last second, catching him full on the mouth. Almost immediately, he pulled back, a gap of millimetres between them.

"Yes, still mine. It's good you remember, but don't even think of betraying me, William. I swear, whatever it takes, I'll crush you."

The icy breath of the threat wended its way between Spike's parted lips. He was speechless and Angelus nodded his approval.

"So, let's pretend I'm buying it. You brought me back, and you're expecting what in return?"

"Dunno. Thought we could work together, like the old days."

"Uh huh. Which old days are these? The ones where you plot against me with the Slayer , sneak up behind me and bash in my brains with an iron bar?"

"Well, uh, no. Not _those_ old days, obviously."

"So… the days when I destroy anything that threatens us, eh?"

"Yeah…." Spike realised he was expecting a helluva lot from this demon who probably didn't give a damn, and he had no arguments left to persuade.

Angelus studied the down-turned face of his beleaguered childe, thinking that never had he appeared so defeated.

"Maybe I will kill the evil demons for you," he continued softly. "But if you think I'm going to live like a goddamned monk and give up the blood and mayhem and killing, then newsflash. Never gonna happen. I'm evil, and I do whatever the hell I feel like, and you'd better start obeying me and showing a bit of respect."

His vice-like hold began to crush Spike, who tensed in anger, and raised eyes that sparked in fury. Angelus almost grinned in relief at the reaction he'd provoked. He did laugh when Spike brought his arms up to his chest and then flung them solidly outwards, violently knocking away the bruising grip.

Rising to his feet in a fluid motion, Spike's whole body challenged the other's assumed dominance. Still grinning, Angelus held his hands up in mock gesture of submission, and flopped back into a chair. Only an alertness around his eyes betrayed his lounging casualness.

"Fair enough," Spike replied quietly, "guess the trouble is, you're sealed in this building, everyone has been evacuated, and there ain't actually anyone here to eat."

He desperately hoped that Wesley had managed to get all employees out, and their emergency procedures activated since his first frantic telephone call.

"You've imprisoned me?" Angelus contained his surge of anger. "So exactly how am I supposed to help when I'm trapped here, you moron?"

"Hey, demon central here, they come to us, believe me."

"And what?" Dark eyes flared, and he was back on his feet, pacing and gesturing his frustration. "Meanwhile, you starve me?"

"Pig's blood has been good enough for the last hundred years. Your choice though."

"Sheesh, Will, are you really so tamed! Have you actually forgotten what it's like? The taste of blood warmed by the chase, rushing around the body, fast as the speed of fear, clammy skin against your lips…." He'd circled around, and now his arms were loosely draped around Spike's shoulders, the breath of his seductive words grazing Spike's cheeks. "And you offer anaemic, bottled pig's blood? I'd rather starve. I'm beginning to wonder why I should help you."

He pushed away violently.

"Because when the time comes, you want to stake me yourself?" Spike replied dispassionately, attempting to cool the situation.

Angelus was behind him again, his heated gaze trailing across Spike's body like a physical touch.

"Good point. And you know? That time is getting ever closer."

But it wasn't a stake that Spike felt pressed against him. He pulled away and faced his Sire, refusing to be intimidated, and then realised even that was a mistake. The rebelliousness, the challenge, clearly excited Angelus.

He needed to get out. The small touches, the bickering, the air of simmering violence and passion… it was almost like the early days with Angel. To look on that familiar face, hear that voice, was slowly stripping away his defences.

Angelus watched the bemused expression from hooded eyes. He was beginning to see his way out of this situation. Spike was the key. Act like Angel, make him forget, win him. Maybe even take him… he was liking this plan more and more. He slung an arm companionably around Spike's shoulders.

"So what next?" he asked mildly.

Spike looked suspicious at this change in tactic, but was grateful for small mercies. Except, why was he being… nice? There was one thing he knew for sure; if Angelus was doing nice then it was probably time to put some distance between them. He had things to do today, anyway. Mountains to move, oceans to drain….

"Gotta go see someone. You'll be okay here, yeah? You know where to find the blood."

"Uh huh. It's out there." He nodded to the window and the streets below with a slight glimmer of humour.

Spike gave an answering smile, surprised how well the old sire was taking this. Maybe Angelus wasn't quite the demon that William the fledgling had built him up to be.

"No, it's in the fridge."

Angelus pursed his lips, and then shook his head and smiled. "It's getting near morning; pretty soon breakfast will be turning up for work."

He looked so smug that Spike almost hated to burst his bubble.

"Nah, actually. I've arranged for them to have the day off."

"The edifice of Wolfram & Hart grinding to a halt just for little old me? Hey, I'm flattered and everything, but there was no need."

"You're not killing anyone, Angelus."

"Not killing anyone today, you've taken care of that, but what about tomorrow and the next day?"

"How would I know? You know me and my half-baked, shit little plans. Don't know how long I'll be gone. Maybe you can spend the day working out our next move."

"Work out how to pull you out of the shit, you mean?"

"Everything's going fine, ain't it?" Yet supernatural senses were quivering to the scent of impending doom. "Anyway, we're kind of in this together. Sorry."

"Just like the old days, eh? You get us into trouble, and I charge to the rescue and save the day."

"Think you're putting your own unique slant on the old days. Unless 'charge to the rescue' means beating me senseless."

Angelus' gaze was inscruatable.

"Have you ever had a childe, Will?"

Spike blinked at this rapid change in topic.

"Ummm, no."

"If you had, and if you cared at all, wouldn't you do your best to teach him?" Angelus asked cocking his head to one side, and radiating an intense honesty. "But a vampire childe is headstrong and arrogant. The demon, newly sprung, glories in its power, refuses to listen to those older and wiser, refuses their guidance. So how would you deal with such a creature? To survive in this world, I needed to make you powerful and knowledgeable enough to endure. It was difficult, Will, you were stomping around, thinking you already knew it all, like some eternal, pain-in-the-ass teenager, whilst I protected us all, and waited for you to grow up.

"I wanted an equal, a companion, but in those days the demon was riding you, and sometimes beating you senseless was the only language you could comprehend and physical strength was the only thing you respected."

Spike stilled. That was some speech. He couldn't remember his Sire ever confiding these things to him before before. To be honest, he'd never really thought about it from the Poof's perspective, and he had to admit there was a kernel of truth at its core; new vampires are born in thrall to the demon's potency. He also admitted that if he ever had a childe who behaved the way he had, he'd stake the bastard.

Angelus continued, as though he'd read Spike's thoughts, "Vampire childer aren't generally worth the trouble, I could have let you diminish into nothing more than a minion. However, I persevered. And yes, sometimes I hurt you, but think about this - how many fledges would survive one hundred years looking after themselves and a vampire as mad as Dru? Makes you realise that perhaps I did something right, huh? Makes me think that I finally found my companion, under the surface of my beautiful, messed up childe."

The words fell on him like caresses, and he stepped back in bewilderment. The affection shining from his evil Sire shocked him. Afraid that Angelus was playing him and at the same time afraid that he wasn't, Spike just wanted Angel back, and the honest love that had become the foundation for his future. The loss was sharp and raw; he didn't feel up to dealing with Angel's devious counterpart or attempting to figure out the truth from lies.

Yet part of him was falling for Angelus all over again.

He couldn't afford to love him, it would compromise Angel, and that he could never do. Gathering up the tattered remnants of his plan, he tried to embroider into it the re-ensouling of Angelus. He'd hardly had time to mourn the loss of Fred and now there was Angel too…. He felt angry, miserable, lost, alone and so bloody pissed off. Not at Angelus, poor sod, wasn't his fault he'd been dragged into this.

Right. First, salvage the plan, and then deal with his sire. Spike sighed and wished he could actually trust… his brain skittered away from the unknown quantity of Angelus (Angelus who had called him a companion, called him beautiful), and instead concentrated on his immediate problems…. Still, it was oddly touching that whatever doubts Angelus might harbour, it had seemed never to enter his head to abandon or betray his childe.

He left without a backward glance, but Angelus didn't need to see his eyes to know there was a tiny wedge of doubt hammered deep in the vampire's soul.

Slipping back out of his pants, he entered the shower, picking up the loofah and attempted to remove all traces of the soul, which seemed to leave a lingering odour no matter how he scrubbed. He suspected that he could exfoliate down to the bone and still smell the damned thing, sickly and sweet, reminding him of vanilla and innocence, strawberries and blue-sky days. The thought made him queasy and he lathered up and rinsed one more time.

Contemplating his situation, his first reaction was to tear the building apart in frustration. How dare William imprison him! But another part of him gloried in the boy's cunning, and he was surprised to discover that he actually believed his own words - Spike had evolved into the companion he'd always envisaged.

Unfortunately, he didn't trust this souled-up version of his childe.

Still, it was fun to be sparring with Spike again; it would be more fun to be outside, prowling the dark streets hunting with him, and the thrill of the chase heating their rising blood, but with only one soul between them, how the hell was it going to work? If they were going to be together, one of them needed to change…. They also needed to survive this current debacle. Yes, it was still going according to Spike's plan, but it was difficult to see where it would all end, and like Spike, he could sense something big heading their way.

He cursed beneath his breath, his thinking was slow and woolly, synapses needed the charge of human blood to begin sparking. He gazed longingly through the window. He wasn't greedy, just one would do….

Helping himself to pig's blood did nothing to calm the demon's rage at being trapped., but there was no point wasting energy on destruction, however soothing he might find it.

He spent the next couple of hours testing the security of his prison. Even if he could crash through a window or jump from a rooftop, he reflected that his old enemy, sunlight, still effectively held him trapped. Instead, he began to explore the labyrinth of basement tunnels, testing the limits of his confinement.

There appeared to be a barrier that followed the outer perimeter of the W&H building.

Maybe he could go down.

He tried. Repeatedly he tried, but the building appeared to turn in on itself. It always ended the same. He would take a flight of steps down and then somehow find himself at one of the previous level. The frustration of spending hours wending his way downward only to discover he'd gained nothing was killing him. Way to spend a shit awful day, caught like a rat in a maze.

This was so irritating, no way was bloody William going to get the better of him. Jesus, he really needed to kill something to assuage his nasty, peevish mood, besides, he was hungry, and the bagged swine shit that passed for sustenance really wasn't going to cut it. He glanced at his watch, realising how much time had passed, and wondered exactly what Spike was up to, out in the world, amongst the heaving, pulsing mass of human flesh. He was salivating at the thought.

A distracted frown passed over his features, was he so desperate that he was now hallucinating?

He caught the aroma again, something too overwhelming to belong to the rats and vermin. It was hot and throbbed with life.

He had searched everywhere. Security and surveillance, which was always manned, had been his final hope, but even that had turned up zilch. Seemed the building had been effectively marked as a no go area.

Nevertheless, as he made his way back up the steps and through the levels to the main building there was no mistaking the familiar scent. Someone had been left behind. His mood lifted immediately and he began to hum a light little melody as he followed the trail. It finally ended at a locked door.

His tummy rumbled with good-natured anticipation. Behind the door lay dinner.

oooo

"You are devious, what game are you playing, child? You and Angel were working together?"

"Well, he thought so," Spike said, a cruel sneer curling his lips.

Cyvus' gaze was evaluating, and then slowly he began to laugh, his eyes sharp with pitiless humour.

"Delightful! You are delightful. Betrayal! A truly, perfect act of evil, and simultaneously you've removed your competitor. I see I shall have to watch you, my boy."

"Thought you already were," Spike replied, "which reminds me. Today is the day that I take care of our other little problem."

"The Chosen One?" Old eyes sparked with malice.

"Uh huh. You'll keep your bargain, yeah? No witnesses?"

"Of course." Cyvus had actually given the idea some considerable thought. "I understand you've been doing your own research but I can give you a spell to ensure a quick, easy birth."

That part of the process had been niggling Spike, hell these things could take days.

"Ok. Once the mother has given birth, I'll negotiate with her. You have a phone? I'll call you to let you know it's all agreed, and then you heal the father."

Cyvus nodded. "So you'll call me, I'll see to the miraculous recovery, how much longer will you need to dispose of the baby?"

Spike thought for a second.

"Give me four hours."

"That long?" he asked suspiciously.

"I have a plan, but probably best if you don't know. You need to face the rest of the Circle with innocence."

"Innocence?" Cyvus' mouth twisted into a grin at the inappropriate description.

Spike caught his meaning. "Well, innocent of involvement in this, at least."

It made sense.

"Four hours then," he agreed.

"How will you account for the missing time?"

"I forget how young you are, a mere whippersnapper. I was creating false memories and changing events when your great grandsire still walked this earth as a human."

"So, if anyone asks you'll have new events to cover the time gap? Huh. What will I be doing? Guess I ought to know in case I ever need to cover myself."

"It's already started. Can't you feel it? Close your eyes."

Wondering if he was joking, Spike reluctantly closed his eyes and felt nothing. Except... it was like the barely audible strains of a half-remembered melody drifting towards him.

"Relax," Cyvus advised.

Then he felt it, the warmth flooding through him. His eyes opened wide. Cyvus' face displayed amusement at his theatrical reaction.

"The fewer people involved in the new memories, the easier they are to create."

Angelus' words and his own response echoed like memory…

"_Why? Why would I want to help? What's in it for me? How are you gonna persuade me?" His eyes were bright as one hand trailed suggestively over his chest and stomach._

_Spike rose from his chair and replaced the larger hand with his own. "Perhaps this will persuade you," he'd breathed as Angelus had smiled in triumph._

His throat felt so tight, words wouldn't emerge. Closing his eyes again, he could feel the ghost of breath on skin, the touch of lips, the grasp of hands, the harsh sounds of sex…. The irony of it caught in his throat and he gave a distorted smile. If he could choose where to spend the day, in bed with his Sire would be his first choice.

"Sounds good to me," he finally said.

"I expect it does, but understand I don't trust him, if he makes a single move against me, I will kill him."

Spike tried to hide his piqued interest. Here was the opening he needed….

"Fair enough. Although, personally, I'm surprised you'd let him off that easily, kind of thought you'd want to make him suffer more."

"Yes, of course. Pain…" Cyvus considered the alternatives.

"Hundreds of years in hell, I imagine develops a high tolerance to pain," Spike prompted gently.

"Ah. Perhaps a different type of pain? I realise you went to much trouble to rid him of the burden of his soul but…"

Spike contained the urge to punch the air in triumph; instead, he gave a thin smile.

"You'll re-ensoul him? Could you bear the demon's suffering, screaming through the centuries?"

They exchanged small, complicit looks.

"Dear child, thinking of me, how kind. However, I believe I would bear up under the weight of it."

Triumph faded to ambivalence and guilt. He understood Angelus like no one else, sympathised even, but he hardened his heart, getting Angel back was his priority.

oooo

Oh, he recognised this guy and it was all the sweeter for that! The guy who thought he could kill William with the vampire poison.

Whatever he felt for William, as the boy had pointed out, he still belonged to Angelus. The man's actions showed a lack of respect, which couldn't be tolerated. Truly, he was famished, but there was always time for a little object lesson.

His pass gave him access to every door in the place. He swiped it through the lock and waited until he heard it bleep its permission and click open.

"Hey, it's me."

The man looked a mess, his blonde hair plastered his scalp, and he smelt like a week old corpse. To Angelus, starved of his natural diet for so long, he looked infinitely appetising. Unconsciously he stepped towards the man who cringed from his hungry eyes.

Oh, that felt good. That's what was wrong with today's world, not enough cringing.

"Don't be frightened. I'm not angry, just needed to put on a show for those upstairs; you know how it is. Sorry," he said soothingly.

Grey eyes stared back uncertainly.

"Come on. Trust me?" He smiled reassuringly. If Spike had been there, he would have recognised that sympathetic smile and advised the man to start running now.

"You're here to rescue me?"

Jeez, this was the part he loved, seeing the hope in their eyes. Or maybe it was the part when hope was betrayed. Ah, whatever. It was all good.

"Why else would I be here? Karlsson, isn't it? A good Scandinavian name, I've always admired Vikings. And I've always thought highly of you, Karlsson."

The man slowly came forward, hope smouldered like the promise of dawn hovering on the edge of darkness.

"So, will I get my job back? I mean, Special Projects?"

"You wanna takes Spike's place?"

"I worked for it, after all. It's only fair that I get what I deserve."

Oh, this was too easy. Hell, the man was practically begging for it.

"I agree. It is only fair."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

The man smiled gratefully, and followed behind, eyes expressing puppy-like devotion, as he listened to Angelus inconsequential chat.

They were back in the reception area, Angelus looked around, satisfied that all surveillance cameras were focused on him. He reached forward to touch the soft, pink and white skin. Anticipation was always good, action was better. His face ridged and changed, his eyes sparked gold and he turned a fangy smile to the man.

"What? I don't…. You said you were rescuing me!" He was almost incoherent in his fear.

"Yeah, I lied." He shrugged his indifference. "I do that."

"But…. You said I would take his place…."

"You will. It should be him I'm doing this to. Do you know how many times he's betrayed me? Also, you need to learn a lesson – you know what the lesson is?"

The man shook his head; Angelus assumed he was admitting his lack of knowledge, rather than complete denial of the entire situation.

"Don't touch what's mine," Angel enlightened him. "Do you think you can remember the lesson?" he asked kindly.

The man nodded fervently, eyes alight with hope, believing he had a reprieve.

"Sorry, but. I'm just not feeling the sincerity here. You'd do the same again given the chance, wouldn't you?"

"No! I…." It finally penetrated that this was just another game, there would be no reprieve, his bravado disappeared like smoke in a breeze, and his whole body appeared to deflate. "But… you don't even like him."

"He's a violent, traitorous, son of a bitch." Angelus said with the satisfaction and pride of a proud parent. "What's not to like? He's growing just like his sire."

Terror made grey eyes bulbous. "I…"

Angelus unbuttoned the man's shirt, the human shook as a cold finger slipped beneath his vest and trailed across the vulnerable softness of his stomach of this gone to seed Viking. It quivered to his touch like pink blancmange.

"What… what are you do…do…?" His stuttering ended as razor-like fingernail cut into his lower abdomen.

Angelus sighed in contentment; it had been too long.

Teasing fangs across slick skin, as he lowered the man gently to the floor, laid half across him to better feel the pounding rhythm of his heart. Absentmindedly, he pulled and twirled intestines from the surgical-like incision he'd sliced across the man's gut. The warmth felt delicious as it gloved his hand, the scent was what haunted his dreams, bringing Angel awake, salivating with desire, and crying in guilt. His eyes glazed and he was lost to the voluptuous pleasure of blood and pain.

oooo

Amanda laid half across his body, to better feel the reassuring pounding of his heart. Holding tight to her still unconscious husband, she closed her eyes to the slim, blonde man who stood watching from the corner, and closed her ears to the soft whisper of warm breath, sighed from the relaxed body of the newborn baby, lying oblivious to the drama that surrounded it.

The birth had been easy, it seemed unfair, she should be suffering for the choice she made, or maybe the screaming emptiness of her vacated body was suffering enough. The Wolfram & Hart man said the baby would be safe…. There was no point dwelling on these things, she'd bargained for his life, and bargained for her husband. She'd understood the consequences and considered it a good deal, given her options, and could hardly now balk at the cost.

"Gone, gone…," she whispered softly.

All she'd known was loss, so despite her bargain, it was almost unbelievable when she heard a reply.

"Hun? Hey, hey…" Fingers reached for her, brushing comfortingly through her hair, and eyelids flickered opened.

"Oh God, Paulie! You're back? You're back with me! Don't leave, don't leave me again…."

She didn't notice as Spike moved out of earshot. He gazed down critically at the pink, little infant.

"You don't look Chosen."

The baby deigned not to answer.

"All this fuss about you, and you wouldn't even make a decent mouthful."

Spike sighed, he was lingering, putting off the moment when he would need to do some fast-talking.

He made his way across town until he came to a familiar apartment block. He thought of unpacking all the baby's paraphernalia, and then decided that would be too much of a shock all at once. Introduce the baby first…. Oh hell! He'd been so certain this would work; it wasn't until he thought about the details that it suddenly appeared he was building a plan on very dodgy foundations.

Maybe he should just dump the baby and leave?

The elevator doors opened. Hoping it was still attuned to him, he stepped out into a different, almost untouched world. More importantly, a world currently undiscovered by demons and humans alike. Apart from….

"Will!"

Bang went his chance of sneaky anonymity.

"Hey there."

"Will?"

"Yeah. Uh, you know you said that you like me cus I don't make demands on you? Don't think you're gonna like me much any more…."


	14. Part 14

Quick update as promised.

Summary: Spike is attempting to hold his plan together, but Angelus has his own ideas on how this is going to work out

Warning: Some strong language, torture

Pairing: Angel/Spike

Feedback: Please let me know what you think

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to Stars for her fantastic support and beta, all mistakes due to after-beta tinkering

**Part 14**

Spike observed his expression from the shadows.

"What do you mean? Umm, are you holding…? Oh no! The answer's no, ok?" Ghan protested.

Spike emerged into the light, and allowed the penetrating gaze to sweep over him, seemingly able to pierce through to his soul. Finally, Ghan sighed unhappily.

"You're going to talk at me, tell me I'm the only one who can help, seduce me a little, but in the end you're not going to give me a choice, are you?"

"You read my mind."

A rueful smile tugged at Ghan's mouth.

"Sorry Pet, but…"

"Look, let's cut all the crappy explanations and move straight to the part where you seduce me."

Spike moved forward and stroked a fingertip across the pouting bottom lip.

"I need you, Ghan. Look after the kid for me, hey? Just for a while?"

And the man, so lonely for connection, crumbled to the gentle words and soft touch.

"Yeah, I will. Be careful, Spike."

Spike sighed with relief, and then quickly went to unpack his car of the cot, toys, blankets, clothes and bottles. He was conscious of his four hours ticking away. Even so, he spent some time catching up with Ghan - time moved slower here, he could afford an hour or so respite, but in the end, he had to be on his way.

This time Mede was uneasy as he watched him leave, he fingered his vampire skin bracelet and wondered it he'd ever see its true owner again.

oooo

Once he was back in his own world, time, indifferent to the petty dramas that unfolded beneath its wings, flew swiftly. Except in Wesley's apartment, where a sombre group gathered, and here it dragged its heels petulantly.

"Where is he, man?" Gunn asked for around the hundredth time.

There was a time when Wesley would have reassured him, but had little time for Gunn these days. Instead, Lorne attempted to offer comfort.

"He'll be here once he's finished..."

"Getting steaming drunk in some bar?" Gunn asked.

Fearing Gunn was correct made Wesley irritable.

"Really, if you have nothing positive…."

"Only saying what you're all thinking."

"Hey. Team Angel, remember? All for one and one for…." Lorne attempted to heal the breach.

"Himself," Wesley finished.

Gunn was getting well and truly sick of the guy's snarky attitude.

"Listen, English…."

"Yes? Please tell. I'm all ears." Wesley replied with simulated politeness. Gunn realised in the face of such frostiness that he had nothing to say, he deserved whatever anyone threw at him.

Impotent with loss, frustration had been bubbling to the surface all day, fuelled by their helplessness in the face of recent events. First Fred and then Angel; it left them with a feeling of unreality. Wesley was particularly closed off. He despised himself for baiting Gunn, using it to hide his own culpability. He took full responsibility for Angel's loss. Although Spike had insisted that it was an accident, he knew it could not just be coincidence. He had given Spike the idea, said he didn't care anymore, and now Angelus was back. Even if it was technically an accident, he still blamed himself; such words would have tempted the most stoic of Fates.

Attempting to redeem himself, he'd handled the situation as best he could, carrying out a complete shutdown of the Wolfram & Hart building, and ensuring that no human employees went to work. Harmony had pointed out that this was discriminatory against demons and once he thought about it, he had extended the embargo to demons. Angelus was so manipulative Wesley didn't trust anyone who came into contact with him.

The one good thing to come out of the whole disaster was that the situation cut through his nihilism, and the fire stirred once more in Wesley's loins as he realised that he had lied. He still cared, about his friends, about the world, about living. So, like everyone else, he awaited Spike with agitation.

Everyone, except Illyria, who merely stood in the corner. Watching.

Quite what she observed was anyone's guess.

But her critical eyes saw all. Despised all.

It rocked her foundations, shocked her to the core. These were the new rulers of her kingdom? That her inheritance should be squandered on primordial pond scum, and parasitic growth, was surely some terrible cosmic joke?

They were nothing, less than nothing. Specks spiralling in a sunbeam, glimmering briefly and gone. A hideous infestation that deformed her world. Billions of them with their clunking technologies and small magicks, walking this world like petty gods. As though they knew power! That these bags of flesh could be so arrogant was almost amusing.

Her eyes scarcely registered their presence, flicking them from her thoughts as dust on her apparel. Yet still they invaded her head. Why? She caught herself. They were not even worthy of a moment's consideration.

Yet this was now their world. They circled the skies in their metal tubes. Disturbed ancient earth to tunnel their way through the crust of the world. Like worms.

Wherever her piercing gaze fell, under the ocean or to the skies, they were there, creatures of dirt, mired in there own excrement.

"It makes me sick." Icy words drenched in contempt.

They glanced nervously in her direction. The green one spoke.

"Did you speak some words of wisdom, my little blueberry muffin?"

His words droned meaninglessly, nothing more than an irritating buzz of noise. Yet she found her thoughts drifting back to this insignificant group.

The one whose arrival they anticipated, the half-breed, was a foolish, but almost amusing distraction. Everyday he had thrown down challenges, she had easily thwarted his attacks, shown him the true meaning of invulnerability. He had thought he was testing her limits. It was laughable. She had no limits.

She had allowed his assaults, moving gracefully and leaving him grasping at empty air. He had learnt though, his movements becoming faster, more fluid and to her surprise, he had laid hands on her more than once. If the one who watched with haunted eyes was correct, then the ability to be surprised was one of the few pleasures to be found in this world. She had decided then to keep the half-breed as a personal pet. Picturing him sitting at her feet, her fingers tangling in his unnaturally bright hair, presented an attractive image, and so she sanctioned his attacks and everyday continued to train her would-be assailant.

She became conscious of a penetrating gaze. The troubled eyes of the lost one were drawn to her once more. She ignored him.

Suddenly her attention became caught by an anomaly. She could sense events layering on top of each other as time folded back. Distracted, she followed threads back to their source….

"They trifle with petty magicks," she informed them.

"Who does?" Wesley asked in puzzlement.

"The half-breeds and the sorcerer."

Before he could respond, she had withdrawn again.

The constant hum of their 'progress' caught her curiosity.

She delved into the memories of the shell she now inhabited, and the beauty of mathematics revealed itself, fractals flowering delicately before her in infinite variations. Her head cocked to one side as she absorbed this information. She understood the nature of mathematics. It was indifferent to the use made of it. It was the root of their power. The tool they used to carve up a world that she could manipulate with a look. Her lips twitched at the stupidity of it. They attempted to reduce all wonders to a simple equation. This world once roared with the power of the gods now hummed a never-ending theme of electrons, neutrons and flavoured quarks.

He was staring at her once more. It mattered not. Except… it was not Illyria he worshipped, his adoration was for this weak and puny form.

To be en-clothed in this aspect, forced into the shape of these apes, was demeaning. It constrained and held her. She could feel bonds where once she'd been free. Once she'd flowed through the air, pure energy and light and power, now she was bound to the earth by the weight of this putrid corporeal form.

That Illyria should be brought so low. It burnt like bile rising from her gullet.

It disgusted her.

Yet still he worshipped it.

Unblinkingly she swivelled penetrating laser eyes to his. Acknowledged his existence.

When she frowned, he straightened and gave a smile, as though to reassure her that he was well. She needed not any reassurance from these creatures. Besides which, he lied. His smile was fractured and he was broken. And if she turned to consider him for a second, it was not because she cared, but merely innate curiosity.

She dissected him with a disinterested gaze, even under such scrutiny, his hungry eyes refused to drop. She was almost curious. He ate, he slept and breathed what more did one such as him require?

Then she remembered loss. Despair like dust in her mouth, when discovering dust was all that was left of her loyal armies.

She was not weak. She would continue and build again. Alter the world to suit her own design. But he was forever lost in the same moment, where all he wished to do was gaze upon this form and suffer. She felt something and if she'd deigned to explain this feeling to him, he might have called it pity.

It was something she had no wish to feel.

Their emotions polluted her.

Still he stared.

"Why?" she asked coldly.

He instinctively understood her query.

"You could never comprehend."

Never comprehend….

"I am Illyria."

Her words were lost as she suddenly twisted in agony.

She felt the familiar shifting of time… but it had taken place without her consent. .

This could not be happening, she would not permit it! Infuriated she opened her eyes on a time that had not yet transpired. She had slipped forward? How? How could this be?

She surveyed the scene in amazement.

The Wolf, Ram and Hart believed these creatures merited such an army? Her curiosity was roused once more, together with an inkling of respect. It almost moved her to realise she was observing the last seconds of their tiny panflash lives.

Another blink and she was back in the little room, subjected to concerned looks.

"What are you doing to me?" She clutched at her body as though it were only the arms wrapped around it preventing it from flying apart.

They merely looked confused, and she realised that they didn't have the power to affect a god in such a way.

She frowned; it felt as though she were too big for this meagre body, her power was pulling at the seams and exposing its weakness. A flash of something cold ran through her veins, another emotion she could not name. Of course not. How could a god recognise intimations of mortality? She knew only a momentary bleakness that absorbed her, made her oblivious to all around, including the resounding thud of a fist banging on the door.

Wesley sighed in relief and opened up.

Spike was looking tired, and had clearly not slept since the nighttime phone call.

"Ok, everyone here?" Spike did a quick head count. "Harmony?" He turned in askance.

"Hey, I can be part of the team, just because I'm evil, doesn't mean I don't care!"

Spike was about to say; yeah, it does actually, but suddenly stopped as he remembered someone else helping people he purported to hate because it was better than spending another night alone. He bit down on his first reply and instead said, "Ok, good."

She looked at the others in triumph.

"You all know Angelus is back."

Small nods and affirmations answered him.

"What you don't know is that normally our every word is monitored, we've got three hours of freedom and then we'll be under surveillance again." He cut through their confused response. "Shut up and listen!"

He finally told them of the Circle of the Blackthorn and his and Angel's plan to both bid for a place within the Circle and subtly set them one against the other.

They listened in stunned silence and then all started talking at once.

"My God, that is so dangerous!"

"Is that why Izzy…?"

"Why didn''t you…?"

"So is Bubba…?"

"It's all in hand. Look, just shut your bloody cakeholes, will you? Wesley, you first."

"I think what you are attempting is extremely dangerous, but my immediate concern is Angelus."

"I'm working on getting him back to his soulful broody self. Until then we just have to hang in there and take precautions. Remember, what happens here will affect Angel; we need to protect him, keep him safe. It's important we don't give Angelus the chance to slaughter the population."

"Well, obviously. Although for some reason I find myself considering it from the perspective of the slaughtered rather than the suffering of the slaughterer."

"Don't matter as long as we've got the same goal in mind."

In the privacy of his thoughts, Spike imagined himself as a guardian, protecting Angel's integrity whilst his judgement was incapacitated, the silent warrior, sword in hand, guarding the moral core of his lover.

"He will stand with you when you die," Illyria informed them.

Lorne turned. "Run that one by me again, Little Blue."

"He will? Angelus?" Spike asked in surprise.

"Uh, guys? I think the 'when we die' part is more to the point." Gunn turned to Illyria. "We're going to die?"

She shrugged her slight shoulders, replying dispassionately, "I do not see how you could survive the legions of hell."

"Right. What do you know?"

She blinked. "Are you commanding me?"

"Damn right," Spike replied shortly.

"No," Wesley overrode him hastily. "We are respectfully requesting that you bless us with your foresight."

"My foresight!" Her lips twisted bitterly, but she refused to admit to these motes of dust that her power was breaking free, and fragmenting.

"You all stand on the edge of battle. The portal opens and the armies of hell spread before you."

The explanation was simple enough even for their trammelled little minds.

Shocked silence greeted her words.

"Well… guess I always wanted to go out with a bang," Gunn finally said.

"You know what? Evil thing here, and really, I'm not big with the warm fuzzies, so I'll just…." She turned to Illyria with a puckered brow. "I wasn't part of this battle thing?" Illyria shook her head. "I knew it."

She gave a little wave and, with a sunny smile, headed for the door.

"Good luck with that dying thing. I'll miss y'all," she called back; just to make it clear that she was entirely on their side.

"I don't get it, Sweetcheeks. You said it was all in hand. Maybe you can explain why we're about to be crushed into oblivion by the armies of hell?"

Spike shook his head.

"I dunno. I thought the situation was under control. What the hell have I missed?"

oooo

Christ didn't the guy know vampires have sensitive ears? One canine cut delicately through the vocal chords whilst avoiding the main arteries, and the last echo of screams faded from the building.

Angelus pulled at his guts, the miles of tubing always fascinated him. An idea occurred that appealed to his sense of whimsy - decorating the upper level balcony with its glistening lengths, artistically arranging twisted intestines. A welcome back present for William. Except William preferred romance and poetry. Dru would have liked it though. He could imagine her now, hands clapping, eyes glowing with excitement, "Oh Daddy, it looks just like Christmas! Will there be presents?" Ah but those days were long gone. How he missed them.

He blinked in surprise, as a blue figure tumbled out of nowhere. She looked at him, her confusion fed her anger.

"You will not hurt my human."

Angelus frowned. "This wretched piece of stinking human filth is yours?"

"Not him! What is this? I am not here… I am there…" She seemed to stumble, and then she was gone again.

Illyria was always unfathomable, but that was just… weird. Turning back to his current entertainment, he placed her visit to one side and considered the human thoughtfully. Laying on the floor, directly in the man's line of sight, he was pleased to note that the human was still conscious, and smiled his approval. He couldn't have asked for a better victim.

"Still with me? Good fellow."

But it seemed that the fiery thread of fear and pain had been stretched too thin, and he was passing into shock, which rather spoilt the moment.

Angelus decided he might as well end it.

It would be sweet to once again listen to that delightful crunch as bone and cartilage crushed between his maws. To feel the metallic power of hot blood spurting down his throat. But he wanted something more fitting for this paltry remnant of fierce warriors. He quickly made his decision, the man would have a death his forefathers would appreciate.

He shattered the breastbone that joined the ribs, and widening the tear in his abdomen, hooked his hand inside the man's body, pulling the ribs apart, opening them up like a book.

The bloody eagle. Ribs spread like wings either side of the torso, the heart still pulsing as an offering to long gone gods.

"You might not live like a Viking but at least you die like one," he whispered. It was probably more kindness than the guy deserved, but Angelus was in an exceptionally good humour.

Unable to resist any longer, he sank fangs through the muscles of the throbbing heart and drank directly from the font. The warmth covered his face, filled his mouth, filled his empty stomach.

The man slowly passed away in silent agony, whilst Angelus nuzzled in, slurping and gnawing in contentment.

"Angelus! What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Spike's day had left him strung out and deathly tired. Time in Ghan's world passed differently, so he had no idea how long he had been awake. He had done what he had to, and all the way back, had been mentally preparing himself for this meeting. The scene that greeted him threw him completely. The scent and the sight…. He blamed his bone weary tiredness for what happened next.

Angelus had been so lost in the pleasure of feeding that he'd heard no sound of Spike's approach, until those words.

"What?"

His face changed back and he stared up from dark, serious eyes, raggedly feathered by blood-coated lashes, attempting to capture the innocent look of a child. It was difficult to pull off with viscera pooled around him and the blood that coated a sheen on his face. So he changed tactics.

"But he was evil. This guy tried to assassinate you. Shit Spike, even Angel was going to kill him."

Spike was torn. It was wrong to kill humans, except, maybe if they tried to kill you first? Besides, Angelus was a demon, what the hell did anyone expect. He was completely unswayed by the rich scent of blood and pain that assailed his senses. Completely. Or Angelus' face covered with….

"I did it for you, Spike. It's poetry."

"Poetry?" His brow creased, not understanding where this was going.

"Look at him Spike. What do you see?"

"A dead body. Blood. Heart, guts, lungs… not very poetic."

"Ah, it can be though…" Angelus looked up slyly. "What rhymes with lungs?"

Spike's eyes flickered in recognition of the words though the context escaped him.

Angelus licked his tongue over his bloodied fingers, and Spike moved without conscious volition, hypnotised by the gleaming redness, almost tasting it on his tongue. Angelus saw the look and recognised the lust. He drew a finger down the side of his face and held it enticingly in front of Spike.

"Taste it."

Blue eyes wavered uncertainly towards brown, and then back to the finger.

"Where's the harm? He's already dead. Taste."

Spike slowly leant forward and then at the last minute seemed to resist. The movement slipped him slightly to one side of the tempting finger. He was close to Angelus' face, staring into his eyes. And now Spike was leaning forwards, closer, his mouth slightly open, until his lips brushed his sire's bloody cheek.

An involuntary intake of breath escaped Angelus, he closed his eyes to the sensuality of the soft tongue sweeping across his face, a delicate lick across his eyelids, the open mouth suckling on his lower lip, a lick to his chin.

"See poetic. Lungs and tongues." he whispered.

Spike didn't hear, the taste of warm human blood filled his body like the roar of cataract, blotting out all else with its power.

"The man's dead, but his blood still has heat…."

Spike drew back slightly and allowed strong hands to guide his head towards the torn flesh. Angelus grinned in triumph as Spike submerged himself in the gaping bloody morass. His features had changed and Angelus crooned softly to him, stroking his hair in encouragement.

As the internal organs were sucked and licked and wrung dry, Spike gradually returned to realisation of what he was doing. He looked up in distress. All images of the proud guardian of Angel's soul dispersed with the reality of his actions.

"Now what's wrong? He was already dead. You killed no one."

Spike shook his head.

"I'm a monster," he whispered.

Angelus regarded him and although it wasn't quite sympathy, there was a certain understanding as he remembered the confused suffering of having a soul.

"No, you're a vampire. Damaged and broken, but still a vampire. There's no point in pretending you're anything else."

Angelus suddenly realised this was all the soul was, an encumbrance, a disability. It didn't fundamentally change Spike's nature. His role became clear; he needed to heal his childe.

"I know what I am!" Spike stared down at the blood on his hands.

Angelus curbed his impatience at this melodramatic display.

"You're thinking you're a bad man. You're thinking you don't know where you fit in anymore. You trusted Angel, his beliefs kept you strong. Now he's gone, maybe you can believe in me instead. I'm not good, you know that, but I don't want to see you suffer like this, Will."

He lifted Spike's chin, gazed at his distressed face and sucked at his bloodstained lips. Spike blinked and broke away, endeavouring to rebuild his image of himself as someone good. But that image had never been anything more than paper thin. He supposed that in the end it didn't matter, what was important was the attempt, and if you fall at a hurdle, you pick yourself up and try again. For Spike this meant seeing the damned plan through.

He wiped a hand tiredly across his eyes. Blood smeared his face like tribal warpaint.

"I'm ok. There's stuff we need to talk about though. I've bought us some time. We have maybe," he glanced at his watch, "two hours."

Angelus sensed that the moment had passed, but overall he was delighted with the progress made.

"Until what?"

Spike realised he wasn't explaining himself very well.

"They're creating some false memories for today, but pretty soon we're going to be under surveillance again."

"How's that?" He nodded towards the camera. "I'd say we've been watched."

"Recreating the day, kind of a mini version of what they did for Connor."

"Uh huh. Cyvus?"

Spike nodded.

"So what have we been doing all day according to the old guy?"

"Uh. Dunno."

Angelus looked at the bloody representation of an eagle, disappointed that his artistry would not be appreciated by a watching world. Spike followed his gaze, taking in the injuries.

"Does it shock you?"

Spike shook his head. This was the man that tried to kill him? At best, he felt indifferent to his fate. Part of him understood the glee in Angelus' actions. It was the joy of unfettered freedom, the ability to follow his instincts. Part of him envied the demon his freedom.

"My soul would have suffered in the presence of such obscenity." Angelus said, unable to contain his curiosity.

"Keep telling you that I'm different, the soul works differently with me."

Angelus nodded, but still didn't understand.

"So, two hours. What's the news?"

Spike shook his head.

"You need to shower. Talking to you like that is… distracting."

Angelus didn't argue. There was something odd going on. When he looked at Spike, he found himself remembering touches that had never been exchanged and kisses that had never happened. The experience reminded him of his layered memories of Connor…. It suddenly clicked.

"What memories did you say the old man is building today?"

Spike flushed slightly.

"Told you, I dunno. Anyway, need to tell you what the Blue Bint has seen."

As Spike updated him, Angelus had the glimmering of an idea and began to smile, because, damn, he was good!

Spike was still talking.

"The Fell will be out of the picture. Cyvus is still clinging to the original plan of getting me into the Circle. Izzy and his powerhouse are gone. Bubba is still around but has lost his allies. He's weak without them and there for the picking. Brucker…"

"Angel spoke with Brucker. She's my type of chick. Thick as pig shit, lapping up every promise that the souled one made. Got an idea how to knock her out of the game."

"Ok. That leaves the Prince. He's been quiet in all this."

"He thinks he's too powerful to be affected by this conflict, but he's the one with legions to command, which means he's the one we'll be facing at the portal."

"I don't understand why we're facing it! Everything has been going to plan, why do the Senior Partners turn on us? They don't seem bothered about Izzy, haven't tried to rescue him at any rate…. Sod it! What am I missing? I wish I could think where I'm about to trip up. Perhaps I could change the future. It can't be set in stone can it?"

Angelus said nothing. He knew precisely why the armies of hell would be ranged against them.

"Maybe I can win the Prince around?" he offered, trying to deflect Spike's train of thought.

"Well, you'll have more of a chance than me. Doubt if Sebassis was impressed with my party debut. Hell at least you got some action, I just wandered around behaving like a complete bleedin' moron."

"Little change there then."

Spike scowled and Angelus laughed.

"You ain't exactly helping, Mate."

"You want help? Ok. Whatever you do, you have to keep up the momentum. I'll deal with Brucker, you do the business with the Fell, as for Sebassis, he's merely a head, cut it off and a new one grows immediately."

"Yeah. Not good. Any ideas?"

A furtive expression crossed Angelus' face. Spike caught it but let it drop, he had enough on his plate.

"We up the ante," Angelus replied.

"What you got in mind?"

"Thinking of the megalomaniac."

"You?" Spike asked in confusion.

"I'd volunteer, but hey, you know what? I don't want to. No, Dead Fred. Whatever her name is now. Illyria."

"Yeah, great idea," Spike mocked. "Except she's not part of the team. She thinks that we're less then dog shit. Despising us would be a rung up in her estimation."

"True… if it weren't for Wesley. She feels something for him."

"Yeah…."

"So, put him in danger and then step back and watch her blast away his enemies."

"Bit dangerous. Angel would never have…."

"Isn't that why you brought me back, Spiky? Because Angel would never have?" Brown eyes glimmered with intelligence and Spike realised he had slipped up.

"Yeah. That's why I brought you back, but still I don't want harm to come to our humans."

"Just admit it, Spike. I was a mistake and you cocked up."

Spike automatically began to protest, "I told you…." He realised Angelus wasn't listening. "Uh, what are you doing?"

The dark vampire delved into the safe, removing an envelope and emptying the contents, whilst Spike watched curiously.

"Brucker." Angelus replied, picking up the phone and placing a call.

Shaking his head, Spike was none the wiser following this less than expansive explanation.

"Listen," Angelus said to him, before turning his attention to the recipient of his call.

"Hello. New York Times? Yes. I'd like to speak to your political editor please. Yes, it is important. Uh huh, and suggest that he might like to record this conversation."

With the phone tucked under his chin, he picked up the small tape and slotted it into the player. They both listened as Brucker's incriminating conversation with Angel played out. She chatted pleasantly about her options for destroying her opponent: blackmail, libel, slander, murder….

"So," Angelus said as it clicked off, "what do you think? Front page tomorrow? Uh huh. Not at all. I'm just a concerned citizen, trying to do what's right for our great country. Quote me on that? Sure, knock yourself out."

Angelus hung up and then slapped Spike on the back. "Don't you just love a feeding frenzy? Although I wish this was England, now there's a country where the journalists really know how to stick the knife in. They could teach vampires a lesson or two about scenting blood and moving in for the kill before ripping the beating hearts from yesterday's heroes. Gotta love them."

"Will it be enough?" Spike wondered.

"She'll be arrested if she's lucky…."

"If she's unlucky?"

"I'm guessing this sort of mistake isn't tolerated by members of the Circle. Whatever happens, she's out. I've dealt with her, now it's your move. The Fell Brothers."

"I guess."

"So you have the baby?"

"I have him. And no, I'm not telling you."

"Never asked."

"Ok."

"You've got less than an hour, if you want to keep this secret."

Spike seemed reluctant to leave.

"Yeah, I'll see the Fell. Uh… the others are coming here. They will have crosses and holy water…."

So that was the problem.

"I'm not going to touch them." Yet, he added mentally. "I swear."

Spike stared at him closely and then nodded. After all, Illyria had seen them all standing together on the edge of battle.

Once he had left, Angelus twirled around.

"Oh Eve," he sang out. "Don't be coy, Sweetheart. Angel wants you."

He peered into a camera.

"Come to Daddy."

Then stopped. Of course, no one could hear him! He gave a small self-deprecating laugh . However, nothing could dent his good humour. He was back, and could almost hear the click as pieces slotted neatly into place around him.

It was back to the office for a more mundane method of communication. He picked up the telephone that had just destroyed Brucker. Now it was Spike's turn to be the focus of that intensity.

"Angel?"

"Not quite, Sweetheart."

"Angelus." Her voice tightened noticeably.

"Ding! Give the lady a prize."

"Is there something you want?"

"Thanks for the offer, Baby. But no thanks."

"Why did you call, Angelus?" Eve sounded resigned.

"I need a direct line to the Senior Partners. You're it. I have a question."

"Go on."

"What's the going price for an innocent soul these days? A vampire soul."

She laughed.

"Uh huh. You do know yours is missing in action."

"I'm not talking about mine."

Silence greeted him.

"Eve?"

"You can't deal on behalf of someone else's soul."

"He'll give it up willingly if the price is right."

There were a few minutes of silence. He guessed she was communing directly with the Partners, he wondered exactly how they kept in communication. There must be some kind of conduit in place.

"I'll be there in ten," she finally said.

Angelus hung the phone up quietly and savoured the moment. This had to be one of his best days in a hundred years. Human blood straight from the heart and a foolproof plan that would solve all his problems in one fell swoop, he was deeply impressed with his own brilliance. So when Eve arrived, she was treated to the sight of a jovial Angelus.

"Eve, me darling. You're here."

"Angelus."

"Couldn't resist taking up the old trade again?"

"Trade?"

"Cruising the night, whoring for souls."

She was unfazed.

"But we go back a long way, Lover, with you I don't think of it as whoring."

Her fingers trailed deliberately along his arm.

"You really want this don't you, Sweetheart?"

"Of course! Every soul is important to us." She sounded like the perky voice that fronts slick advertising campaigns. "Where is he, anyway? My sources told me Spike and you were f… busy."

"He said he was knackered. The young these days, no stamina."

"Right. And here you are still raring to go, aren't you Stud?"

She let her jacket slip sensually from her shoulders and stepped out of her shoes. Angelus watched with neutral eyes. There was something bothering him… he moved closer, trying to place the scent that covered her. It was familiar; he let the images ride the scent. Closing his eyes he had the impression of glimmering blue eyes, light blue denim jeans and a dark blue velvet voice.

"So you've taken up with the Cowboy, huh? How's our little songbird doing?"

Eve froze and then smiled, moving closer she wrapped arms her around his waist.

"He had big plans for you. You know, I think he was almost disappointed when Angel destroyed himself, he'd been looking forward to doing it himself."

"Some guys are weird like that. I, on the other hand, believe that if you can get someone else to do it for you, then all the better. Guess I'm just kinda lazy."

"Well, I'm not lazy. You know me, I love nothing better than being busy, busy."

As though demonstrating her naturally active nature, her hands became extremely busy.

It amused Angelus how far she'd go for Spike's soul, but he didn't really have time for this, and anyway, when it came down to it he found the hell-bitch did nothing for him, he preferred more involvement than just being part of someone's day's work. He moved his mouth towards her and caught her lips. Taken by surprise, she responded and then let out a squeal when he bit into her tongue. She liked a little pain as much as the next gal, but she wasn't food and she wasn't prey!

Angelus hardly knew what had hit him. His senses obliterated by the pure dark power of her blood, a conduit, directly connected to hell-given energy he had never even suspected existed. Suddenly, he was also overwhelmed physically. Small, perfectly manicured hands threatened to rip his head off. Now that was such a turn on! Even more so, when he scooped into the dark well of power that her blood had opened the gates to. Trying to hold on to it was like cupping water in his hand, still he tried and for a moment matched her strength, turning the tables and lifting her up by her scrawny little neck.

"Ah Evie. Who'd have thought such a little vanilla snack would be stuffed full with nummy goodness." He licked the last remnants of redness from his fangs and smacked his lips appreciatively.

"Don't even think of it," she rasped.

Once again, he hardly knew what happened, but found himself flat on his back on the floor. Now wasn't this interesting? A side of little Eve he'd never guessed. She was strong. Stronger than him. And he now knew the provenance of that strength, could taste it rolling around his mouth. He lay back and basked in the knowledge that a fount of raw power and strength lay within arm's reach, his for the taking.

"Don't sweat it, Baby, what's a little love-bite between mortal enemies?" he replied soothingly.

She slipped back into her Blahniks and gained a few inches of height. Her mouth was tightly pursed as she dabbed a tissue to blot away the blood.

"Neither of us is mortal, and I never sweat. Let's talk souls, shall we?"

Looked like she was off the menu for now, but suddenly Lindsey's sloppy seconds were a damned sight more interesting. He got to his feet and theatrically brushed himself down,

"Ok. It's simple. I want one spell, and I guarantee he'll be tempted."

"You think he'll use it, even once he knows the cost?"

"I virtually guarantee it."

"What is it?"

He whispered in her ear.

"Is that all?"

"That's it. It has to be simple to do, and effective, even if he has all the power in the world working against him."

"Ok, agreed. Seems cheap to me, considering everything he went through to get it."

"Fame and riches, isn't that the going rate for a soul? You could throw in riches if you want, but fame? He already has that"

Her nose scrunched up. "Hey, I'd love to, but the deal's been struck and we can't add in extra clauses. My bosses? Kind of sticklers for the details."

"Before you leave, tell me, am I still CEO of Wolfram & Hart?"

"Of course."

"Then do me a favour and get this damned barrier lifted."

Eve smiled sweetly. "Done. I'll do you another favour, a word of advice…"

"Go on."

"Keep an eye on your little god. Oh, and you might want to try taking a look at the low-emanation scanner readouts. Just a thought."

"Why? Give me a clue here. What's the angle?"

"Let's just say that Illyria and the Senior Partners go way back, and they don't want her… anywhere. However, she's your problem, and so is the nuclear fallout when she goes boom."

"Ah." This was new, he tented his hands together. Knowledge for free? They must really want Illyria out of the picture. "Thanks, Darling. Come back in an hour, Spike will have recovered by then and we've got things to discuss, considering all these vacancies within the Circle. Also, if I'm staying, I think it's time to re-negotiate the terms of my contract."

"A virgin a day, huh?"

"Something like that…."

She gave him a quizzical look, a faint frown line appeared between her eyebrows, but she said nothing more, spun on her $1000, snake skin heels and left.

oooo

Spike turned warily. It was like watching angry bees buzzing around.

"It's true." The Grand Potentate declared, eyes wide with shock. "The Chosen One has gone."

He glared at Spike. "This heathen killed him."

The bees were beginning to swarm. Spike wasn't exactly nature's child, but he gathered this wasn't good.

"No. I took him, not killed him." He shouted over the increasing drone.

"You lie. Our god has spoken. The child is no longer part of this world."

The noise became a roar, so it was amazing anyone heard when Spike replied quietly, "More than one world ain't there?"

But the Grand Potentate had heard. He held up his hand for silence.

"What have you done with him, Vampire?"

"Keep me alive, do what I ask, and one day there's a chance I might tell you. Kill me and he's lost to you forever."

"We do not give in to the demands of an unbeliever!" A voice shouted out, but everyone noticed that their leader was saying nothing.

"What do you want from us?"

"For now? Keep out of the coming fight. Resign from the Circle if you have to, but steer well clear."

The Fell looked genuinely puzzled.

"Uh. Sure. Which fight is this again?"

"You'll know when it arrives," Spike replied, his lips curling in a vicious amusement he didn't really feel.

They genuinely knew nothing of a coming battle, and so far everything was still going according to his original plan. He began to wonder if there was something amiss with Illyria's vision, and they were being panicked by nothing more than phantoms from the mind of a confused god.


	15. Part 15

Summary: Some plans come to fruition, some don't. Spike decides to improvise

Warning: Strong language

Pairing: Angel/Spike

Feedback: Please let me know what you think

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to Stars for her fantastic support and beta, all mistakes due to after-beta tinkering

**Part 15**

Angelus prowled the corridors, tracking a noise he'd heard a few minutes previously. Walking stealthily through the building, he grinned and moved silently behind Wesley.

"Angelus, I take it?" Wesley asked without turning.

How did the guy know he was there?

"Jeez, is no one surprised to see me?" Angelus complained.

Wesley smiled faintly. "Well, I suppose you could say it was my idea that helped Spike bring you back."

Angelus was amazed. They had truly worked together to banish Angel and bring him back? It appeared that his childe had spoken the truth and he had indeed planned to exile the soul. This changed everything… Spike was an ally. He felt a rising warmth towards his childe and the return of the old affection. Jesus this could be real fun, if they could just deal with that soul. He was more determined than ever to help his afflicted childe.

"And here you are," Wesley continued.

The human's casual indifference was irritating. Why wasn't he screaming in terror?

"Suddenly everyone wants me back. I'm overwhelmed. And you think that will stop me killing you? I ought to tell you, kind of peckish here."

Still not a flicker of fear crossed his face.

"You will not harm my human."

He whirled to the sound, to find Illyria static in the corner, poised like a mime artist with one arm stretched in front of her face. Oh well, she made a pretty effective deterrent if he'd had any intention of harming the man. With a thoughtful expression, he studied her motionless face. Maybe it was his imagination, but she appeared a little pale, her eyes less than their usual startling mixture of electric and ice.

Suddenly she doubled over clutching herself, her eyes became whirling pools of confusion.

Then she disappeared.

Each passing hour she was becoming more irrational, and what the hell was it with her and humans? She had made it clear that she cared nothing for any of them. Except she did show these odd flashes of something for Wesley. And now that he thought about it, she had begun to look at Spike as though he were actually visible. But this latest vanishing was odd. She hadn't expected to slip away, of that he was certain. Suddenly her earlier appearance and puzzling words, made a kind of sense. He was positive he knew where she had gone from here, and that it wasn't Karlsson she'd been trying to protect when she'd appeared earlier. It seemed that temporal disorder was another symptom of the coming explosion.

Wesley had grown accustomed to her sudden comings and goings, and remained outwardly unmoved by her disappearance, neither did he seem to feel the loss of his protector. He had no intention of being dependent on the whims of a precocious god, and had been taking his own defensive precautions.

"Yes well, perhaps I can offer you a glass of water first?"

"Not the liquid I was thinking of," Angelus explained patiently.

"Quite." Wesley was already reaching across, picking up his glass. "Oops. I do beg your pardon," he apologised as water slopped onto Angelus' skin.

"What the…?"

Snatching back his blistered hand, he grabbed at a decanter, slopping it over his burning skin. Dammit, that was his favourite single blend malt he'd just poured away.

"Oh my. The water appears to have an unfortunate effect on you. And I have to admit, I've been drinking it all day. I suppose that means my blood is also unpalatable?" Wesley queried.

A small growl escaped the vampire. He wouldn't be looking quite so smug later.

"Huh, clever. You're right, I can't drink you, could still break your neck…."

"True. Spike would never forgive you though."

"As it happens, I don't want to kill you, Wes," he continued sweetly.

The human stepped back uncertainly.

"I ought to find that reassuring, however, I find myself strangely apprehensive."

Angelus nodded his understanding.

"Ever since the evening with that Predictor, you've known how it would end."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

But the seemingly prescient vampire had put his finger on the truth; Wesley had known for a while.

Angelus didn't answer the question, as though sensing it was rhetorical.

"You need to trace Illyria."

The change in topic threw him for a moment.

"What? Why? I mean, how?"

"She's leaking some sort of trail. A human body wasn't meant to contain such power. You need a low emanation scanner." Whatever the hell that was.

Wesley's face couldn't hide his interest or concern.

"How did you get this information?"

Unwilling to rouse the man's suspicions by mentioning Eve, he merely replied, "I have my methods. Just do it, Wes."

Wesley knew his obsession was unhealthy, he should have grieved and let go. Instead he clung to this last remnant of Fred as a drowning man clings to the wreck of his ship. True, Illyria was unpredictable and dangerous, but the thought of losing this one last connection to his Fred was more than he could bear.

He quickly made his way to the lab, it was coldly soulless without her presence, but a sense of focus kept him away from his usual maudlin musings. He opened a program and located a small blob against the building schematic. If Angelus was right, and this was her readout, then it appeared she was outside the room where she normally trained with Spike, and leaking an immense amount of power, judging by the strength of the signal.

He needed to obtain a readout to discover the scale of the problem. He quickly tapped in a command, and felt himself go cold. Immediately he began checking the equipment and the connections. True he had a signal, but it couldn't possibly be correct.

Another half hour and he still couldn't find anything obviously wrong.

"Oh bloody hell…"

He stared at the reading that grew higher as he watched.

"What is it?"

Wesley nearly jumped out of his skin and wondered how long Angelus had been watching him.

"If these reading are correct…" He frowned as he made some mental calculations.

"Yes?" Angelus prompted impatiently.

"No, this must be wrong."

"Share with me, Wes."

"I, uh…. She's overloading. It seems that the fusion between her demon essence and her host's body is deteriorating rapidly."

"She's a walking time bomb. Is that what you've discovered?"

Wesley went white and nodded.

"So you know what your role is in the coming battle?"

There was no answer, but, by the look on his face, Angelus was satisfied he'd got the point. Jeez, anyone could see that the man had a death wish; you'd have thought he'd be celebrating.

"How long have we got?"

"I… I can't say. I need some parameters. I don't know the tolerances of her body."

Angelus remembered Eve's comment.

"I guess, we're looking nuclear. How long before she reaches that point?"

"At this rate, she can't possibly last more than two hours."

This was working out too perfectly. Soon they would be back under surveillance and he could play protagonist in this little play. He sat back in a chair, hands linked behind his head.

"So hey, Wes, tell me why did you and Spike want me back, breaking up your cosy party? Were you punishing Angel because he wanted Spike and not you?"

Wesley's thoughts were elsewhere, he had many things to fear, and Angelus was now the least of them.

"To be truthful I can't really say that I wanted you back, but Spike asked a question and I answered. Suddenly, here you are."

"Huh. Last time we met, you were crapping yourself. When did you grow a pair? Not that I'm criticising, they look good on you. Hell. If Spike weren't the jealous type, I swear I'd…."

He noted that Wesley's gaze was focused behind him and caught the scent of his childe, "Hey Spike, no harm, just catching up with my pal Wes."

"Yeah? Why would I be jealous?" Spike meant it as a sneer and was horrified when instead it sounded accusatory.

"Aw come on, don't be coy. Or are you just shy in front of Wesley? No need is there, Wes? He was just telling me," Angelus ran a hand down the side of Wesley's face, "how attractive he found me."

"Leave him alone, yeah?"

Angelus grinned.

"What did I tell you, jealous," he said in a stage whisper as an aside to Wesley. "Sorry, I know how horny you've been since losing the stick insect, and I'd love to help, but you see how things are."

The atmosphere turned icy.

"Don't mention her. Don't even think of her."

"But why not? Angel used to think such a lot of her. Especially at bedtime, he used to think a helluva a lot of her…"

Spike knew exactly what Angelus was doing, used to use the same tactics himself.

"Enough!"

"Don't you just love it when he's all manly?" The dark vampire grinned as though joking, but there was no joke in the smouldering eyes.

"Ok. Enough with the distractions, we're on countdown here. Another minute and all eyes will be on us once more."

Angelus could feel the tension building as they all watched the sweeping hand of the clock.

"Right, we're on." Spike said.

"On what?" Eve's voice sounded from near the door.

"Now the fun starts! Hi Eve, I was just thinking of you. And lookie here, the whole fang gang. Hello, Muffin." He sniffed ostentatiously at Lorne's neck.

The over red lips smiled nervously. "I'm no muffin, believe me. I taste like road kill." He pulled a face as he realised a vampire wouldn't necessarily find that repellent. "Ten day old road kill." He clarified. Yeuck."

"And Charles, great to see you! Loved the stunt you pulled on Fred, Truly, it was worthy of… well, me actually."

Gunn shifted uncomfortably, but his words showed his old defiance, and dark eyes burnt with loathing.

"Back off, Bloodsucker."

"Hell, that's pathetic! You think it's an insult? It's a description Gunn, or are you too stupid to get that. How Angel ever managed to work with such a shit-for-brains is beyond me,"

Gunn drew a stake from the waistband of his pants, "I'll show you stupid!"

It was Spike who grabbed his arm, putting the other hand to Angel's chest.

"No, you won't actually. Put the bloody thing down, and you, stop behaving like a pillock."

Angelus smirked to see Spike taking his side.

Wesley noticed his self-satisfied smile.

"I think the pillock remark was directed at you, actually."

"Oh." He shook Spike off in irritation, only to have his arm caught by Eve, who pulled him aside and pressed a scrap of paper into his hand.

"The spell, as promised. So tell me, what do you plan to do with it?"

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not."

"It will work no matter where and how we use it?"

"Yes. He just has to say these words. It will take a couple of minutes you understand, we take his soul, make sure there've been no tricks and then we seal the deal."

"No backing out once the words have been said? Both parties bound?"

"We'll make this one watertight."

"Thanks. Great job."

Eve gave a slight smile.

"So, you wanted to talk about re-negotiating your terms of employment with Wolfram & Hart?"

"That's right. I want a direct link to the Senior Partners."

"Sorry. Not possible."

"I think it is."

Eve gave her supercilious smile, and ignored him, turning to say something to the others, and was therefore, taken unawares as fangs sank into her neck, and Angelus drained her power away.

The others stared in shock, and Spike finally understood how he'd cocked up.

He'd trusted his Sire.

He cursed himself for his blind stupidity. The betrayal bit deep, tore away a chunk of who he was, leaving behind an ugly, gaping wound. It felt like the kind of wound a person such as himself could sicken and die from.

Eve's body sank to the floor, and Angelus' newly forged connection, channelled hideous screams of outrage as his body fed on the well of strength her blood had given him access to. He thought he'd known invulnerability, but until that moment he'd been a puling infant trying to take on adults. He smiled across at Spike, and in the blood and flesh hanging from his fangs, Spike saw all he'd work for dissolve to nothing. This was the end. He was all out of plans and they were as good as defeated.

"You hate me that much?" he asked Angelus.

His words were flat and empty. No posturing and no bravado, just pure Will, as pure as winter sun, eyes reflecting distant crystal blue skies, voice threaded with frost, as winter crept into his soul.

"The battle was coming Will, we both know it. All I've done is timed it to our advantage. Nothing's changed, we're still on the same side."

Spike had lost the reins, events were careening out of his control, his destiny in the hands of someone else.

"It's ok. All's safe in my hands. There's a happy ending in sight, well not for the Circle or the Senior Partners, but for me and you…. I'm here, charging to the rescue, remember?"

Spike stared down at Eve, she seemed to be looking back desperately trying to convey something, but gradually those speaking eyes lost focus, became glassy and spoke no more, her shock at discovering she was not immortal was frozen forever, deep within those eyes. She died and Spike realised that once again all choice had been ripped from him.

"We'll have to fight, and soon."

"Uh huh. Should suit your temperament, fists and fangs, backs against the wall. Your sort of fun, no?"

Spike realised that Angelus was attempting to pick him up, motivate him for the coming battle, and was touched how well his Sire knew him. He came alive when the odds were stacked against him. This was the fight he'd sought all his life, in every alleyway and every bar, with every mob and each invincible demon, all had been forerunners for this moment.

The building began to grumble in response to Eve's passing. The humans began to back away and look around nervously.

"My sort of fun," Spike agreed with a tight smile and when Angelus slapped him on the back in approval he felt a jolt of the power that his Sire had stolen crackle through him. His eyes narrowed as he shot a glance at Angelus, who grinned back gleefully.

"We're going to win, Spike."

For a moment Spike could almost believe it.

The grumbling became louder, tremors ran through the floors, and the walls shuddered.

"We have to go. Now!" Wesley shouted above the noise, grabbing Lorne by the arm and dragging him towards the doors. Gunn was following, and not before time, as the overhead walkway began to creak ominously.

"Where to?" Spike asked.

"There's something I have to do, I'll meet you later." Angelus explained.

"The Hyperion," Wesley shouted. "We still have our weapons there."

Angelus nodded.

"Okay."

The vampires exchanged looks and then flew towards the doors, arms flung over their heads to shield themselves from tumbling masonry.

"Oh Christ! The barrier we put in place to keep you in…." Spike looked up in distress at having forgotten such a thing.

"It's been gone for ages," Angelus replied, and sauntered through the doors.

By the time Spike had joined the others outside, Angelus had used all his new strength and speed, to disappear faster even than Spike's eyes could follow.

He was reeling, felt almost giddy. Angelus could have left earlier, gone hunting, caused havoc, but instead had stayed to help. The winter that had settled bleakly into his soul with Angelus' betrayal and the death of Eve, began to thaw and melt.

He turned to face the others.

"He said we could survive this."

But Gunn was looking for atonement, and death was written on his face.

Wesley already knew his role and accepted it, not because he wanted to die, but because he could see no other way to end this. He remembered that evening so long ago, Fred had been flattered at being called a god, and concerned for his own prediction. The suicide bomber. He looked sadly at Illyria, she had lost her centre of balance, the calmness had gone, and her eyes were wild. She looked like a wounded animal. His heart grieved for her, this creature who was out of place and out of time.

Lorne hardly knew what was happening, everything was moving apace in a world of violence and betrayal that he had no wish to understand.

"No, he actually said that you and he would survive it."

That was true, but Spike was dogged in his determination.

"I'll be dust before I lose a single one of you."

"Hardly comforting, Honeypie."

Meanwhile, Angelus had reached his destination travelling faster than the news of Eve's death. He was therefore invited in, and although Sebassis was guarded, it was no more than his usual personal bodyguards, rather than armies bristling with weapons.

"Angelus! I was wondering when I might see you. Please sit. Would you care for a drink."

He held out an ornate glass and a weak looking slave uncorked a vein and drew his own lifeblood for his Prince's pleasure. The slave raised weary eyes to the vampire, awaiting his decision.

"Sure. Why not."

If it tasted good he might feed well before leaving.

A glass of green liquid was brought to him and he sipped at it delicately. It didn't have the sustenance of human blood, but it had a kick all of its own. Almost like a drug it imbued a sense of power. Not something he needed, he was swimming in real power.

"Hmmm. You taste good," he told the slave and licked his lips deliberately.

The slave moved back to his master and Sebassis stroked his horns comfortingly. Angelus watched this interplay with interest.

"Who is he? One of your enemies or just a household slave?"

Sebassis smiled. "This is my sibling's son."

"Ah."

"A pretty child once, but he was wild with ambition. He thought he could usurp me. I broke him of that idea and now his only ambition is to please me." The stroking continued, the slave leaned into the touch although his face remained impassive. "Maybe you could take some lessons from me in how to treat your childe."

Angelus looked thoughtful as though considering it, and then shook his head.

"Spike is different to that… thing." He didn't even try to hide his contempt of Sebassis' nephew. "I made my childe strong. I'm beginning to think he's unbreakable."

"Really? Maybe I was about to back the wrong vampire, because you are, oh, so breakable."

There was a threat in the words. The surrounding guards moved hands to the haft of their weapons. Angelus felt like he could blow them away with the gust of a breath. It was time to end this charade.

"You are so far behind current news, it's almost sad."

He rose to his feet. Weapons drew around him in response. Sebassis was looking at him in amusement, so secure in his own castle that even the easy confidence of the threatening vampire could not shake him.

"You're dead with a word, Vampire"

"No more words then, hey?"

The guards didn't even see it happen, as far as they were aware Angelus never moved, but suddenly there was their Prince, his throat slit from ear to ear.

In seconds the throne room was a mass of carnage, green blood smeared the walls and pooled on marble tiles. Only the cowering puny slave was left to survey the scene of devastation as the dark figure strode through the palace killing all he could find.

Huh, so this was where Bubba had been hiding out. He discovered that not even the Prince's patronage could save him from this engine of death that stalked the palace. Angelus left the one witness to tell the story, it was a tale that needed no embellishment, but he could trust the slave to try anyway. All to the good, he wanted every single demon they could muster to appear on the battlefield. He turned to the slave and deliberately emptied his glass of blood on the floor.

"I lied. You taste like shit."

He was amused to notice that this verdict seemed to bring the demon more pain than watching the horrific slaughter of the household. On that note he strolled back to the Hyperion.

Entering the hotel, he noticed there was some sort of disagreement bubbling away.

"Angel."

Angelus almost smiled at the name. In moments of stress they fell into old patterns. He graciously became Angel for them. He needed them for the battle, afterwards would be a different story altogether….

"What is it, Wes?"

"Illyria recognised this place. The alleyway behind the Hyperion is where we face Hell…."

"And I think we should run. If we're not here then it can't happen, right?" Lorne asked.

"You of all people know better than that. You can't hide from destiny, Lorne."

"Peaches? Why are you covered in green… blood?"

Angelus' smile jolted everyone's memory as to who they were dealing with.

"Sebassis and his retinue are dead."

They looked at him in slack-jawed shock, and he preened under the attention.

"Ok. Time to choose our weapons. Even now the legions will be gathering. Come on guys, buckle up."

There came a flurry of activity as they dragged out chests and chose their weapons.

"Illyria?" Angelus asked. "You could end this, destroy them, burn away our enemies like dry grass."

"I could." Although she doubted it, her strength veered wildly and shot forth unexpectedly, it took all her concentration just to stay in this place and this time. "But I care not. This is not my battle."

"So you will watch as they tear him to pieces, you will listen as his screams of pain screech through you."

"I cannot…." Then suddenly stopped. They were words she had never used before, they tasted strangely on her tongue and mixed with emotions that one as invulnerable as she was never meant to feel.

"Have I been infected? Is humanity an infection?" She automatically looked towards Wesley for answers.

He thought that Illyria had been talking of feelings for Spike, and gestured towards him.

"You've spent time with him, you allowed yourself to learn his ways. Now you find you care." Wesley replied.

"I care nothing for the half-breed. No. But he is my pet. He belongs to Illyria."

She turned to one side and froze, moving not a muscle, not a twitch. Her eyes stared, unblinking, yet sharply focused on things beyond their knowledge or comprehension.

She replayed all that she had experienced, and observed what she had become - a weak, corrupted version of herself. Her face almost crumpled in grief.

It horrified her. How could this happen? To be so degraded.

Were these filthy emotions truly within Illyria's perfection, or was it memories from the shell clouding her judgement? She'd so blithely called on the dead girl's memories as she'd tried to make sense of this alien world. She realised now she'd made a mistake. She had been infected. The awful truth occurred to her that she cared about these beings; the haunted one, her little pet, the beautiful, black-skinned one, the half-breed warrior and even the green demon. Her face twisted in rage as she screamed out denial.

She would destroy them all. Wipe them all away before it came to this. A flash of an image entered her head, she saw herself weeping real tears over a dead, cold, corpse. And realised it was too late. It might sicken her, but somehow she was bound to these insects by an odd affection.

She returned to the people she had claimed, and found it ironic that now that she had the will, she no longer had the power to save herself or her people. It was the final humiliation of this ill-fated leaving of the Deeper Well.

oooo

They shivered as rain lashed around them, running in rivulets down their faces; wide-eyed with disbelief they gazed through the tear in the world to the hell beyond, and the army amassed against them.

"Angelus? You going to share your plan with me now?" Spike asked, without taking his eyes off the hoards before him.

"I'll tell you part of it. Illyria is dying."

"What! You're wrong, Peaches. God. Remember?"

"The shell is too weak for that power. Wesley's confirmed it. She's leaking power and very soon it will explode from her, by all accounts taking half a continent with her."

"Ok…I can see that will deal with the army, also us, and most of America…. Shit. This is your plan?"

"She's going to be the other side of the portal, and you're going to shut it behind her."

"Angelus! Are you insane, I don't know how…."

"It's ok. It's going to be ok."

He pressed a slip of paper into Spike's hand.

"What's this?"

"Say the words, give it a minute or two and the portal shuts. It's powerful, Spike. Nothing can prevent it closing once you've said the words."

"Ok…. Why can't you say them? You like using magic, and love taking the bleedin' glory, would have thought destroying hell would add nicely to your rep."

"Yes, well… there's a cost associated with it and I don't have the readies."

Spike examined his bright eyes and shifty look.

"Price?"

"Uh huh. You close the portal, probably save the world but lose your soul."

"Oh."

He felt numb. The one good thing he had done as a demon. His soul. His precious prize.

"Oh," he repeated.

"It's for the best, Childe. This is no way for a vampire to live."

"I…."

He could say nothing. Silently he sent up a small prayer, knowing this would be the last time he would have that connection, the last time he would be recognised by the Power, by God, whatever you named it. After today he would be just another nameless demon, living without that light of benevolence shining upon him.

"It will all be better afterwards, Will. You'll see. Me and you against the world."

"Yeah. Afterwards."

Gunn looked at the demons that confronted him and grinned, he was a warrior born and bred, raised on the streets of LA, streets that could make hell look like a walk in the park. He wore the look of a man prepared to die, a berserker with nothing left to lose.

This meant something to him. It was his sacrifice and possible redemption for the betrayal of Fred.

"Whoa, man! All this just for us?"

He laughed and hefted his axe, anticipation sharper than the edge of its blade.

Lorne wasn't a warrior, he'd abandoned his world to escape battles and casual death. No hero, just a lounge room singer. He weighed the unfamiliar sword in his hand, which was almost too heavy to wield, and wondered if he could shatter them like glass with a perfectly pitched upper C#. It was all he was good for.

Angelus considered his childe, he was staring blankly at the piece of paper, and Angelus knew he would play his allotted part in this drama. He turned his eyes to the other key player, watching as Illyria convulsed. Her instability was the reason he had chosen this moment for the fight, and her time was close now. He caught Wesley's eye and the human nodded back.

He eyed the distance to the portal.

"Illyria?"

She merely looked up from her crouched position.

"You're too strong for this human body."

"Tell me something I do not know, Human."

"Which world is it, Illyria? Your power will explode across the land killing everything in its path. You can kill us all, or you can save us."

"I care not." The untruth rang hollow here at the end of things.

Wesley said nothing more, but made his way across the expanse of land to where the portal displayed his final resting place.

"Where do you go? Human?"

She painfully staggered to her feet and followed him.

"Human, stop! I command you… I ask you… Wesley?"

He whipped around to see Fred's face staring back at him. He stared in wonder, tears stood unshed in his eyes.

"Fred?"

"Don't leave me, my love."

"Oh God! Fred…. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He ran to her and pulled her close. "We have to do this."

The face was flickering insanely between Fred and Illyria, and he could hardly bear to watch, yet at the same time devoured the image, each time Fred stared back at him.

"Angelus! Spike!"

Yet another voice rang out and all eyes turned to this new player.

"Cyvus," Spike muttered, "Of course, I was just wondering how things could get any bloody worse."

"You made a mistake, Spike. Of all the Circle members to dupe, you really chose the wrong one."

Angelus was moving away from Spike as though disassociating himself from his wrong doings, and out of the range of retribution. In fact he was circling closer to the sorcerer.

Cyvus smiled. "Don't think I've forgotten you either, Angelus. We know what you did to Sebassis. Bubba and Brucker. I have a surprise for you, Vampire."

Angelus could feel walls closing in around him, and made a furious leap for Vail. But with a gesture of a stick thin arm he found even his newly acquired power could not prevail, he was held in mid air. Cyvus was muttering some words and a flash of gold light appeared in the vampire's eyes.

"Something you mislaid. I return to you."

He smiled benevolently as Angel dropped to the ground with a crash. Bathed in confusion, the vampire hid his soulful eyes in his hands.

Well at least one of his plans had worked. Spike felt like laughing crazily but knew it was the type of hysteria that would end in heaving sobs at the stupid bloody irony of what he was about to do. Would they call him a hero afterwards? Or just a fool? Maybe the two were synonymous; you have to be a fool to be a hero. He drew his gaze from Angel and cast his eyes towards the widening rift.

He knew what he had to do. Whether Illyria stepped through or not, the portal had to be closed. He couldn't afford the price, it was unfair that he should be the one to pay it, but what else could he do? One person, one soul, what the hell did it matter in the scheme of things.

He glanced back at Angel who crouched in the mud of the alley, his hair plastered to his scalp by the rain. It brought back memories of showers and waking in the morning to Angel running fingers through the dark strands, embarrassed at being seen like that. Spike smiled, that flattened morning look was usually just for him. He found it kind of endearing.

Satisfied that Angel was suffering, Cyvus turned his attention to Spike.

"What are you muttering, Will? Are you gibbering in fear… because I tell you, well you might."

Spike continued his chant and then with a smile he dropped a scrap of paper to the ground.

"Cyvus. Good to see you again, Mate."

Cyvus could feel the air tingling around him.

"You've worked magic? What have you done?"

"If you want to switch to the winning side, now's the time."

"You believe you are going to win? Against them?" He gestured to the widening portal and began to laugh.

Meanwhile, Angel slowly came to himself, remembered where he was and what he was doing.

The army was beginning to pour into their world. Wesley and Illyria were struggling to make their way through. He heart bled for them. Angelus' plan had been cruel and amoral and necessary. He took up the strands of the plan, and began weaving them together into a rope strong enough to strangle the Senior Partners. Maybe not kill them, but perhaps leave them reeling and gasping.

Then he stilled, suddenly recalling Spike's role in the plan and glanced up… to see that lethal piece of paper, used and soggy in the puddles of rain

Spike wondered what Angel would do. Protect him? Guide him? Be his soul for him?

He felt it leave with a crack and a whoosh. It was different to Angel's drawn out agony. There was no point fighting, it was being taken with his consent. A light disappeared from his eyes.

"No!"

Angel's cry was lost in the squalling wind and the rhythm of rain falling like tears in the night as though mourning the soul's passing.

That was it. His precious, hard won soul was gone.

It left him with a feeling of emptiness. He didn't feel liberated or even particularly evil. He felt bereft. Automatically he turned towards Angel for support and in that split second saw a reaction he'd never considered.

Horror and rejection.

He could almost see Angel's thought's playing out like a flickering Fellini film on a cinema screen. Soulless. Evil. Beneath me.

He became aware of the alleyway being invaded, but the portal was becoming hazy around the edges. Cyvus finally realised the purpose of Spike's magic - closing the portal before it had discharged Sebassis' legions upon them. He turned his immense power towards maintaining it.

Illyria's hands clutched frantically at her head, and Wesley was half lifting her, helping her towards their destination. Then suddenly he was struck down.

Angel gave a shout and watched in horror as his soulless childe thwarted his plans. Spike had knocked Wesley out and was going to keep Illyria this side of the portal! Struggling to get to them, Angel shouldered his way forward, but the demons were focusing on him. This was the vampire that killed their Prince, this was the one they all wanted to claim a piece of. He was being slashed and bitten and punched. Forced to defend himself they fell to his wrath, but more appeared, blocking his way to Spike. He was howling and stabbing in frustration.

Spike reached for her and tenderly took her hands. She stared out from wide eyes and Illyria faded completely, and all that remained was Fred.

"There's no need for Wesley to die too," he explained.

"I…." She looked towards the portal that was now being held open by the sheer determination of an ancient sorcerer looking to defeat them.

"Are you afraid, Luv?"

Slowly she nodded. "I'm weakening. I can't do this alone."

"Here. I'm with you." He took her hand and she struggled to her feet.

She pulled herself tall, and it hardly mattered whether it was Illyria or Fred whose pride held her body straight and head high. Spike smiled at her and her lips twitched in reply, in the wretched misery of the past few weeks she finally knew peace and certainty. Together they stepped through the rushing hoards and into the gaping tear.

Wesley watched in horror. Angel wondered that he could have doubted Spike for a second, even soulless he had more humanity than those who should have more right to such a quality.

The last image they had was of Illyria, her body drawing in to itself and then blue light screeched from it, piercing through the darkness, illuminating everything like a lightening flash that refused to fade.

Keeping the portal open for the armies of hell was beyond him. Vail was pouring all his strength into the thankless task. As Lorne approached, he barely had the power to raise his eyes, never mind a spell. So it was that Lorne raised a blade and took his life.

Inside the portal, Spike could no longer hold on to her as blinding power burst from the too weak body. His eyes squinted against the glaring light, one arm thrown up to protect his face from the heat. But his skin was blackening already.

The portal shut, and Angel was grateful to be spared the sight of ash floating in a foreign hell dimension. He remembered an old poem that Spike had loved 'If I should die in some foreign land…." It crossed his mind that there was now a part of hell that would be forever England.

They were momentarily blinded by the absence of that intense light, all was darkness.

Gunn and Lorne looked towards the other two who stood with identical expressions of loss etched upon their faces, but they turned away from each other. So many emotions they'd shared in the past, but heart-rending grief was theirs to savour alone.

The vanguard of the army was in this world and they still had work to do. Lorne merely stared, whilst Gunn tried to eliminate them single-handedly. The two grieving men picked up their weapons. Misery turned to fury, and fury turned to violence. The look on their faces was enough to make an opponent turn and flee in fear. Angel used the last of his dark power to kill every single one of them.

In those last five minutes, when the world went insane, Wesley lost his last connection to Fred, Angel lost Spike, Gunn found no redemption in death and Lorne took his first life.

They returned to the Hyperion and released bloody weapons, letting them clang to the floor. They had no words, and went their separate ways to find a distant room, where they could close the door and bury themselves in grief.


	16. Part 16

Summary: They all have to come terms with past events, easier for some than for others

Warning: Some strong language

Pairing: Angel/Spike

Feedback: Please let me know what you think

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to Stars for her fantastic support and beta, all mistakes due to after-beta tinkering

Chapter 16

An eerie kind of stillness hovered over the hotel. Their lives had been razed and it was with a sense of numbness that they gazed upon the ground zero of their existence. They kept to themselves, although gradually, between the cracks in the silence, seeped the clank and clatter of everyday life, where words were traded like precious jewels in miserly exchanges.

One morning, Gunn happened to wander into the kitchen as Wesley boiled a kettle. Respecting the other man's privacy, he quickly retreated, but Wes heard his footsteps and called after him, offering him coffee. Gunn hung precariously in the moment before casually accepting. It wasn't quite expressions of forgiveness or understanding, but it was close enough for these wounded souls.

They drank together in silence.

Angel finally picked up the weapons they had dropped, which lay like abandoned relics, crusted with blood and guts. Wearily he gathered them up and brought out the oil and the cloths.

"You want a hand?" Gunn asked.

Angel nodded, and once again, silence settled as they worked together and scoured away remnants of that day.

On moments such as these they laid the foundation of their new lives.

Lorne continued secluding himself from company, or rather their company.

It struck him for the first time that his friends were killers. Sure, he knew they were warriors, the word trailed clouds of nobility in its wake. Having experienced battle, he could see nothing noble or honourable in such things. It was gut clenching fear, the steady beat of skins, and ferocious war cries that rang out like dread melodies, and each one spoke of death and agony. He had stood uncertainly, wondering what in the Power's name he was doing there and had vowed he wouldn't take a life. The vow was shattered as he'd stuck cold steel into the ancient sorcerer.

His sensitive psyche contained a dark blemish that seeped into him like poison. His talent for reading people disappeared, hearts no longer bared their secrets to him, the future was a wall of granite through which he could not pass. And he mourned this loss more than he ever thought possible.

Lorne, the anagogic demon who helped people, couldn't be reconciled to Lorne, killer of the weak and infirm. Lacking the finesse of a killer, he'd stabbed the point of his sword into the sorcerer's throat, and could still feel the spray of blood on his face, the taste of it in his mouth…. No matter how many sea breezes he poured down his gullet the taste of murder remained with him.

He finally admitted to Wesley that his psychic abilities had vanished.

"It's punishment for the blood on my hands." He pulled a face. "And on my tongue."

"I don't understand why… I mean, if you hadn't have wielded that blade and everyone had died, would that have made your guilt less? You probably saved thousands."

Lorne looked at his hands, convinced he could see rust coloured substance ingrained beneath his nails.

"If that's true, if I did the right thing, why has my talent left me?" he asked miserably.

"Personally, I believe your predicament is psychological. Your talent requires your internal balance to be finely tuned. You acted against your nature, and despite having the best intentions this experience shook your world, in effect, destroyed your equilibrium. Really it would be marvellous if one such as yourself were unaffected by that battle."

"So it's all in my noggin? Well that's not good news, Sugarplum. You do remember last time I spilled my marbles across the floor?"

They both shuddered… Lorne recalled the giant green demon he'd unleashed, and Wes, his embarrassing turn as the party drunk. They both shook the disturbing memories away.

"It seems to me that the problem stems from your perception of Cyvus as someone fragile and weak. You need to disabuse yourself of such notions." Wesley thought for a second. "I have books containing extracts of his life and habits. Perhaps if you re-evaluated your deeds in the light of that information, if you understand exactly what you destroyed that day, then you can reconcile yourself to your actions."

Lorne looked unconvinced.

"I know he was a powerful sorcerer, but I could also see he was just some old guy, too weak to defend himself. I know what I murdered, but thanks for trying."

Nonetheless, later that day Wesley delivered the books to him, and Lorne spent the rest of the afternoon locked in his room.

Meanwhile, as they patiently cleaned axes, swords and knives Gunn finally asked a question that was bothering him.

"How do you do it, man?"

"Uh, well, plenty of oil. There's no such thing as too much oil. Grind out the nicks and dents, sharpen the blade and finish off with a clean oilcloth to polish."

Angel was relieved that the question was innocuous. He'd been half afraid that….

"No. I mean, live with the things you've done."

"Oh that."

He continued the final polish of a knife. It had been well used in the battle, one of his favourites, with its plain hilt and sharp blade, beautiful and functional, decoration on such a weapon would have been superfluous.

"What else can I do?" he asked. "If I thought killing myself would balance the books then I'd have done it years ago. But what's the point of that? How would it help anyone? It's a coward's way out. The difficult thing is living with it. Everyday, every hour, each decision you make, each person you help. You buy back self worth in dribs and drabs, then one day you stand tall again, realising it's no longer redemption that you seek, but the satisfaction of making a difference to someone's life."

"So you're saying wanting to be redeemed for an action is selfish?"

"Not exactly. I'm saying it's a starting point. A springboard to something better."

They fell back into silence, and Gunn contemplated his words.

Lorne joined them later that night. For the first time in a while, Gunn looked beyond himself and his own misery.

"Hey, How you doing?"

Lorne raised a smile. "Funny enough, I'm beginning to feel better."

"Really?" Gunn smiled back. "That's great."

"I still have a problem with killing, but if that bastard returns I'll gut him slowly."

"Uh.…" Gunn wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. "I guess you can do that and keep him alive. Painful though."

"Kind of thought it might be," Lorne replied flatly.

Gunn looked across to Wesley for help, who caught the look and smoothly stepped in.

"So the books helped. Good. Do you know if you can still read people? Would you like one of us to sing?"

Lorne looked around at them and could feel their pain screaming at him. Events were still too fresh and raw for each of them, he shuddered at the thought of hearing it in song.

"Not yet, Sugarcakes. Maybe later, 'kay? Until then, who fancies a gorgeous, frothy, chocha mocha, with my own secret ingredient?"

For his sake, Wesley perked up and smiled.

"Is that the one with the dash of Kahlua?"

"You've given away the secret, Wes. Now he'll have to kill us," Gunn joked, and then turning the words over in his head; his grin became sickly, took to its bed and pulled the covers up high.

Lorne gamely kept his fixed to his face. "Don't fret it, Peachkins, I appreciate the effort."

He made them a drink anyway, and contained a smile at the sight of three hard-bitten warriors with frothy moustaches on their upper lips. This was all they were, just people with the ability to rise up to challenges without regard to personal cost.

They in turn, found the warmth of the drink seeping into their bones, the sweetness was comforting, the alcoholic kick relaxed them, and for a moment frown lines disappeared from their battle weary features. If Lorne could, he would have kept them like this forever.

So the days passed, with little breakthroughs for each of them, but there were two gaping wounds, which no one yet dared to probe. Until one night, Angel discovered Wesley sitting next to a fire, whiskey glass in hand and a half empty bottle at his feet. He approached the man cautiously, but Wes was merely staring blankly into the leaping flames.

"Why did he do it?"

Angel froze, wanting to flee. He wasn't ready for this, may never be ready, but one look at Wesley's empty eyes and he found a streak of courage, and moved into the circle of firelight.

"It was supposed to be me. It was foretold, I would be the one who unleashed her on hell. She was the timebomb and I should have led her to the target, it should have been me."

"Yes, it should have."

Wesley blinked at the harshness. Still, it was better than lies and platitudes.

"It would have left two whole people, instead there's just you and me."

"Yes."

Angel waited, knowing there would be more.

"So why did he do it?"

"He, uh… You know he gave up his soul to close the portal? Angelus brokered the deal."

"No!" Wesley's eyes watered in sympathy for the doomed vampire he'd come to call friend. He could hardly grasp such a sacrifice.

Angel said nothing.

"Oh bloody hell, the poor, bloody sod. So he lost his soul, and sick at what he'd done he… but no." Wesley's fuzzy brain doggedly followed the thread of his thought. "He lost his soul, but that wasn't it. He looked towards you… and then decided he wanted to die?"

"Yes." Angel said again.

"Why? What did you say? What did you do?"

"Nothing," Angel said. "He gave up his soul for us, and I was horrified. I said and did nothing."

Wesley returned to silently staring into the fire, perhaps seeing once more the flames of hell licking at two slim figures.

"So it was your fault."

The words were just a statement, no judgement coloured his tone. There was no need, Angel judged himself. He could hardly think, as contrary thoughts rolled and tumbled, cracking painfully against each other, bursting like shrapnel through his head.

Wesley leant forward and picked up the bottle, pouring liquid carefully into his glass. It seemed his life had been saved and Spike's lost by something as indiscriminate as a mistimed look. How tenuous was the attachment to life that it could hang by such absurd threads.

For Angel, it had all happened so quickly. He'd been in shock, of course he hadn't meant to drive his childe away, but such thoughts were meaningless because Spike had turned and left. He was quiet for a minute and when he spoke his voice was soft.

"He suffered to gain that spark, and was so damned proud of it. He used to irritate me; always telling me he was different because of the way he earned his soul. It was true though. It meant there was something about his demon he could respect and take pride in. A demon asking for a soul? I mean, honestly, only be him. Because of that, he accepted his demon, embraced it, trusted it even, he was whole in all the places I was broken.

"Then I made him give it up. It was his source of self respect and he had to willingly surrender it. What words could I say, Wes? He looked to me for help and I had none to offer. I judged him by my own experience, but what if I was wrong and he really is different to me? Angelus moulded him the first time; maybe I could have done it differently this time and created someone good?"

Wesley blinked rapidly.

"Perhaps. He tried so bloody hard, but we'll never know. Why did he always get the shitty end of the stick?"

"I don't know."

"At least he had you for a while, he was happy then."

"Yeah, I think he was."

Spike found it so easy to be happy. He loved life, picked it up by the scruff of its neck and whirled it around in his own manic dance. Angel had joined him briefly and had felt the beat and the rhythm echo within his own heart. Spike had brought him back to life. Now Angel was dying again.

"He took care of Fred from the moment they met, until he took her hand at the end. He could be abrasive and cutting, yet so gentle with her, sometimes a difficult man to like, but impossible not to love."

Again silence fell. Angel thought the human had fallen asleep and was startled when he spoke again.

"I know I lost her weeks before the battle. I should have let go."

"It was hard seeing her face everyday."

"No, I was behaving like a child, allowing myself the luxury of wallowing in grief. All noise and ostentation and, poor me, look how I suffer. I despise it in others, but didn't recognise it in myself."

"You're too hard on yourself. Why shouldn't it be about you for a while? You suffered, Wes."

"No, it should have been all Fred. Recalling all I could and tucking away her memories, happy times that I could pull out someday to find that I'm laughing with her once more. Instead I trailed after an image that barely even looked like her. I confused Illyria with my own confusion… but then she became Fred right at the end. Did you see her Angel? Did you see her? Or did I dream it?"

"I saw her too."

"I think Illyria attempted to use her memories to influence me, to gain my sympathy…."

"Maybe she was just trying to comfort you, Wes. She thought you were about to die and knew who you most longed to see."

"Was there really that much humanity in her?" Wesley wondered.

"She thought that Fred had infected her."

Wesley smiled fondly.

"She probably did. There was enough humanity in her to infect the world."

Angel turned to leave, but Wesley grabbed at his wrist.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Staying. Listening. I don't know. Helping me to say goodbye to her tonight. I'm sorry. I should have done it weeks ago."

"No. It takes time to reach this point."

"Yes, I suppose it does. You know when the time comes, I'll be here for you too."

"Thanks, Wes, but there's no need."

"Oh. You've already come to terms with his death? I suppose you've lived longer than me, learnt through experience how to cope with such loss."

"What? Oh, no. Just that he's not dead."

"Angel! That's splendid news! Have you had a message from him?" Angel shook his head. "Oh. But you can sense him, yes? The sire/childe bond! I should have thought of it myself…"

But Angel was shaking his head again.

"Then…." Wesley was at a loss.

"Because I told him that this would never be over between us. That he could burn up and die and it still wouldn't end."

"Oh. Well…. Good."

Angel heard his doubts, but couldn't afford to share them for a second. He'd abandoned Spike in his hour of most desperate need, and the difficult thing was living with himself. Everyday, every hour, each decision he made, each person he helped, did nothing to buy back his self worth. He would never stand tall again until he'd found Spike, explained why he had said nothing, redemption meant jack shit until that time.

The following week someone came in and asked if this was Angel Investigations. He held in his hand an old flyer that he'd found in a bar. Had it only been a year?

Lorne told him no, Wes looked to Gunn, who nodded.

"Yes," Wesley's cultured tones overrode Lorne, "this is Angel Investigations. How may we help you?"

Thus it began again.

oooo

A thin wailing bled through his consciousness. His hearing was raw and over-sensitised, the noise seemed to bypass his ears, and pierce through his brain like a hot steel wire.

He tried to ignore it and sink back into the downy feathers of comfortable oblivion, but the shrieking was persistent. Fingers of awareness scraped against protecting walls, crumbling them to rubble and leaving him exposed.

He could see nothing but darkness. Feel nothing but a deep searing, burning through his innards. His mouth was without moisture, his tongue was a chunk of desiccated leather, and all he could taste was cinders and ash.

That godawful screaming still assaulted him.

After escaping for so long he'd finally gotten what he deserved.

So, this was hell.

Yet the surrounding scent told a different story. Fire, brimstone, torture and pain, all strangely absent. The banshee wailing faded to soft noises of contentment and a gentle crooning. He heard the sounds of peaceful breathing and the rustling of linen, and then he felt a warm hand resting on his forehead. Something was pressed to his lips, a heady scent filled his nostrils and he felt the rush of blood gushing down his throat, soothing the dryness, easing the burning.

The source of this ambrosia was eased away from his lips. He recognised the taste, the smell, the tender touches.

He attempted to speak, but what emerged was little more than a breath and went unheard.

The effort defeated him and he floated back into darkness.

He drifted drowsily in and out of consciousness, unaware of the passage of time. Sometimes he awoke and all was empty and silent. He'd never liked being alone, yet here, despite his blindness and immobility he felt cocooned and safe, it was the world beyond that had become scary. Other times he heard noises, or a voice talking to him, "See Baby, You're getting better all the time."

It would murmur its comfort as life-giving blood pulsed against his tongue, soothing and healing his physical hurts enough, so that one day he managed to prise open his eyes a crack for the first time since he'd stood holding Fred's hand on the edge of hell. He closed them again, not quite ready to face the harshness of memories that awaited him.

Today there was presence in the room, a voice talking.

"Do you remember when I came to you a few months ago? Gods you were beautiful. I only came because portents and auguries were circling around Wolfram & Hart, and the vampires with souls were at the epicentre. I was curious, Will. I never meant to get involved, and then I met you again…. I found I couldn't just leave you to your fate."

Spike felt a gentle touch to his hand and heard a soft sigh.

"I knew what was building and I helped you. Kept a watch over you. Did you never wonder why I wore your skin around my wrist?"

Ghan?

The voice stopped but now Spike was curious, he willed it to continue, and it obliged.

"It was my barometer, and my link to you. When it turned to dust it would mean you'd died."

Spike wanted to ask why he was still alive and must have made some small movement because his hand was now being squeezed.

"Hey, can you hear me? Are you listening to me, Will? Do you want to hear more?"

Spike used all his strength to squeeze his hand, and Ghan must have felt some slight fluttering, because he took up the story again.

"You know that time moves differently here. If you had been staked I could do nothing but wipe the ash from my wrist, but if you were being destroyed by fire I calculated that I had a small window of opportunity in which to rescue you. When I first felt heat radiating from the strip around my wrist, I was relieved. It meant I had a chance to save you. I was prepared for it, but then you weren't in the world, you'd stepped through to hell… it took me precious minutes to trace you, using the strip of skin as a physical link to trace you.

"Time moves slowly here, but even so I was almost too late. Your skin around my wrist was blackening. I was desperate; it was becoming grey around the edges and at any second would flash into nothing. I finally located you, and slashed though dimensions to reach you, your enemies were already burning. I think Illyria had been trying to protect you, shield you from the worst, but it was growing too strong for her and her strength and cohesion were almost spent. I grabbed you and closed the gate, just as the world turned white in the brilliance of her death. We barely escaped."

There was silence, and Spike was grateful for the chance to absorb all he'd heard. That explained the burning pain he had felt.

"Here, I have to go. Can you hear Trouble? He's got some lungs on him."

This last was so bizarre that Spike decided that he had fallen into hallucinations.

oooo

He panicked.

He was with Wesley, Gunn and Lorne and he panicked.

Putting his hand to his pocket he'd found that the familiar shape was missing. He surreptitiously tried the other pocket. Not there either. The meeting continued without him, words faded to meaningless murmurs of sound.

Everyone was looking at him so he nodded, which seemed to satisfy them.

Where the hell was it? He patted at his inner pocket.

"Angel? Is everything alright?"

"Yes…"

Casting his mind back he remembered talking on the telephone, it had been in his hand then….

"Angel?"

"Sorry?"

"We were discussing advertising the Agency."

"Great idea."

"The hotel?"

"What?"

"Angel…. Let's take a break. Tea? Coffee? O positive?"

The others moved into the kitchen, whilst Angel retraced his steps of this morning.

Thank God! There it was, perched next to the telephone.

Wesley returned with heated, decanted blood bag. Living with Angel and Spike had caused them all to lose their squeamishness. In the end they'd hardly blinked at Spike's concoctions, quickly learning that any foods tinged red or pink were probably best left unsampled.

Something was clasped in Angel's hand. Wesley made out a gleam of dull silver.

"Is that his lighter?" he asked quietly.

Angel reluctantly opened his hand

"Yeah."

Some days he almost forgot it was there. It had become a part of him, either in his pocket or in his hand. There was something reassuring about it.

"Why his lighter?"

Angel slumped down into a seat. He knew why….

"I used to think of it as him," he confided, hoping Wesley would be able to help him sort out the knots and tangles in his head.

"Uh… right. I mean, no actually, I don't understand…?"

Wesley was mesmerised as Angel twirled it slowly in his fingers, critically examining it, as he probably had done a thousand times since Spike had… left.

"It's old and tarnished like him."

"It is. But nothing hides the fact that it's quality, sterling silver," Wesley pointed out.

Angel continued fiddling restlessly, clicking it, but the flint didn't spark. Wesley suddenly had an insight into where this was leading.

"And all of it pointless without the flame inside," he said.

Angel looked up. This was the thought that confused and battered him.

"Kind of."

"You're wrong. You're so wrong."

Angel shook his head sadly.

"Without a flame it has no function, no purpose, no relevance. It's not a lighter, but just another piece of useless trash."

His tightly controlled voice made the words harsher still.

Blue eyes considered him thoughtfully.

"Yet you keep it anyway," Wesley commented.

Angel had no answer. Yes, he kept it, it was precious.

Wesley gave a small laugh devoid of anything resembling humour.

"Sometimes your logic escapes me. You've overstretched an analogy. Kept his lighter but thrown him away. I never knew you could be such a fool. He's not an inanimate object. He's a complex man! Who knows what he might have been capable of?"

"That's what I'm afraid of. I know what Angelus was capable of..." Angel muttered.

The look in his eye caused a chill to run down Wesley's spine.

"I never knew Spike before his ensoulment, but one thing I do know, even taking into account his reputation, he wasn't Angelus."

"Maybe not at the start, but Spike became what Angelus moulded him to be."

Gunn walked in and caught the tail end of the conversation

"Angelus and his mini-me?" he asked, biting a mansize chunk out of a hamburger, and spurting red chutney down his chin, giving rise to unfortunate connotations. He wiped it away on the back of his hand, and then licked his hand clean. "Except this time he wasn't, was he? Angelus came back and Spike didn't fall in with him…."

"Which is why Angelus sold his soul."

"He didn't, in the end it was Spike's choice, and that action has to be worth something in the scheme of things." Wesley disagreed.

The frown lines deepened on Angel's brow and he was more confused than ever. He couldn't reconcile Spike's final actions with his soulless state.

"Great as it is to be chewing the cud with my fellow bulls, what's the point?" Lorne looked around at them all. "He's gone."

Angel said nothing. Wesley watched as his brow lowered and a small tic played along his jaw. Lorne frowned.

"Angelpie, you need to let this out before you explode, and you know, vampire guts? Kind of difficult to get out of the carpet."

"There's nothing to say," his tone discouraged further discussion. Lorne shrugged and gave up.

Once he was out of earshot, Wesley let them know of Angel's irrational belief that Spike was still alive. It was only fair, since they would be amongst those closest to the fallout.

oooo

Time passed, and he spent many hours listening to Ghan, learning more about him during these times than in the six months they'd lived together. Sometimes he became confused as Ghan's voice scolded, until he remembered the baby he'd foisted on to the man, and realised that the soft haranguing was directed at the kid not at him. As days and nights passed Spike recognised an increasing affection in his voice, Ghan was growing to love the child.

His strength returned until one day, to Ghan's joy, he finally opened his eyes, and spoke of something that had been gnawing at him for a while.

"You called the baby Trouble?"

"Oh, Will!"

He felt the sudden weight as a body flung itself atop of him.

"Are you smiling, Will?"

"Can't you tell," he breathed.

"Well…."

"Oh shit. Tell me the worst. How do I look?"

"Well…." He repeated, which told Spike all he needed to know.

"That bad?"

"You're looking better. I mean, on the bright side. You have lips and ears and eyelids now…."

"That's the bright side? No hair then?"

"Not exactly."

Spike felt a hand trail across his skull.

"There's something. A bit bristly, but nevertheless."

"Hair's the worst. Everything else heals and grows but hair is a real bugger. Takes longer than human hair to grow."

Ghan soothingly stroked his stubbly head.

"It suits you."

If he had some hair growth then it had been more than mere days since the battle.

"How long? How long have I been here?"

Ghan did a quick calculation.

"It's been three weeks."

"He'll think I'm dead."

Ghan didn't need to ask which he.

"Probably. Don't forget it's been much longer for him. Months."

Spike became restless.

"I have to see him."

"You talk in your sleep, Will. I know you went through the portal because of him."

"I've had time to think. I didn't give him a chance, did I? Hell, if Angel had lost his soul in a matter of seconds, he might have surprised the same look on my face,"

"Perhaps, but you're too weak…."

"Ghan..." Spike pleaded.

"Ok. I'll take you there," Ghan reluctantly agreed.

"Cheers, Mate. Will you do me another favour? The way I look…. Just prepare him first will you? Tell him what's happened."

"But Will! Why should I? I don't want you to go to him, and I don't like him and…."

"Please?"

"It's not fair. I forbid you to use puppy eyes on me…. Oh, gods alive! Alright. I'll do it."

Ghan pouted and had the distinct feeling he'd been suckered.

oooo

There was a noise outside his office, a knock at the door.

"Come in."

"Angel," a voice said softly.

He looked up at the last person he would have expected to see.

"Willow?"

She tentatively smiled at the people gathered there, as though uncertain of her welcome.

"That's me. It's good to see you all again. I heard about the battle and all, and had to come."

"You heard?"

"Angel, everyone knows about your victory, it was incredible! Honestly, I don't think the world has seen anything like it before."

"Victory?"

Somehow they had all lost sight of the fact that they'd actually won, and more spectacularly than they'd ever planned or dreamt.

"I'm sorry. I know you lost a lot that day. Fred was a wonderful person and Spike…."

Her mouth became a thin, drawn line as she controlled her emotions, but nothing could hide the luminous sadness in her eyes.

Wesley walked forward. Fred had loved talking to this intelligent girl. They had sparked off each other, delighting in having someone who could follow the speed of their thoughts. He wasn't a tactile man by nature, but he crossed the space between them, drew her into his arms and rubbed her back, allowing threatening tears to be blinked harmlessly into his shirt.

"I'm glad you came, Willow."

She drew back with a sniff.

"I came because I know you've lost people, so if you want extra help for a few months, you've got yourself a volunteer."

Angel turned to her, eyebrows raised. "Now you want to help?"

Willow wore a determined face that Angel had come to recognise.

"Yes, I do. And I'm sorry about earlier. Buffy didn't ask my opinion… although, to be fair, I was kind of away at the time."

"Cherrypie, I for one am glad to see you. You're a breath of fresh air." Lorne smiled.

Willow ruefully plucked at her blouse. "You must be upwind then, because really? Not so fresh."

"You get my vote, too. We could always do with extra help," Gunn said.

"Well that's agreed then. Welcome to Angel Investigations," Wesley beamed.

"So where are your bags, Girl? I'll go fetch them."

Willow turned to Angel questioningly.

"Well?" she asked, aware that he had not yet approved.

She tentatively she reached out and touched his hand. It was the first physical contact he'd had with anyone since Spike….

"I guess we could give it a go on a trial basis. Sure why not?" His lack of enthusiasm was embarrassingly noticeable, but she squeezed his hand, and they bustled away to choose a room for her.

Somehow normality was returning to their lives, and Lorne was right she was a breath of fresh air. It frightened Angel, how quickly the atmosphere changed. He could feel events conspiring to loosen his stranglehold on the past. He settled down to do some work, trying to avoid dwelling on the reason he didn't want someone new here. Why he didn't want Willow with them.

"Angel? We're going to show Willow the local sites."

They were talking of coffee shops and pastries.

Inexorably life was moving on. He could see a new existence spreading before him, filled with the sound of humans. Chatter and laughter and tears. There would be new dramas and crises. He would be dragged back by their needs, forced to live and pretend… and pretend…..

His head was in his hands and tears rolled down his cheeks as his body shuddered with painful, wracking sobs.

He'd let Spike go into hell. Driven him there. And he missed him. Missed his voice and his laugh and his touch. He missed having someone who understood him, only now did he truly realise how Spike had watched over him, read his moods, provoked and protected, cared for him, in a hundred different ways.

He didn't give a damn about souls, in his heart Spike was only ever Spike, nothing more or less.

After all these months he couldn't pretend anymore. The slender, overstretched thread of hope snapped with a stinging twang. Spike was gone and the world was nothing. He had to accept that this was all there was.

When the others returned they were pleased to find that Angel was more like his old self, talking about work and making plans. They happily joined in, and like Angel, they finally felt events at W&H were drifting into the past. They were putting down roots and beginning to grow into their new lives.

It was with relief that Angel saw the last of them yawn and disappear. Wearily he sank back into his chair. He'd somehow made it through the first day of the rest of his life.

There was a knock at his office door, and he carefully composed his features once more.

And the past came in and punched him in the guts.

"Mede," he said coldly.


	17. Part 17

Summary: Angel and Spike learn about souls

Warning: Some strong language and drug reference

Pairing: Angel/Spike

Feedback: Please let me know what you think

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

A/N: Thanks to Stars for her fantastic support and beta, all mistakes due to after-beta tinkering

**Part 17**

"Angel." Mede cocked his head and a small smile played around his mouth.

Angel's heart lurched in shock. The man stank of….

Somehow his hands moved to Mede's shoulders. He desperately wanted to shake answers out of the man.

"Spike? Will! Where the hell is he? Where has he been?"

He sounded distraught, and Ghan took pity on him.

"Calm down, he's alright. William is with me."

His first reaction was relief, his hands dropped and he stepped back, eyes alight with joy. His Will was alive! And living with….

His second reaction was devastation. All this time of living on nothing more than hope, until even that had deserted him, Spike had been….

"Oh…. With you?" He felt a little sick and suddenly wasn't quite sure what to say. He rubbed his brow as though his head was hurting. "Is he ok? How did he escape this time?"

He was retreating down a long tunnel, his words sounded distant to his own ears.

"I saved him," Mede explained.

Angel realised he'd lied to himself earlier, he had still been clinging to a shred of hope, but now he could only watch as it evaporated like morning mist. He'd driven Will away and this man had saved him. Who could blame Will for the choice he'd made?

"Oh." He repeated. "Good."

He turned away, his emotions flying in different directions, so he hardly knew what he felt.

"Ok, you're upset. I get that."

"Yeah, I'm… upset." Angel smiled at the inadequacy of the word. "All these months…. He could have let me know he was alive."

He could hardly speak. Spike had been with this ex-lover all the time, although the 'ex' bit was probably superfluous by now. Whilst he'd spent each day dying just a little bit more.

"I can explain…."

The scent was so strong… Angel jerked his head up, realising that Spike was actually here, just beyond the door. Listening…. Hiding…. He couldn't even bear to see him? He hated him? His eyes teared up but he blinked them away angrily. What was this? Had he come to say goodbye?

He felt hurt, betrayed… it touched a chord and Angel suddenly remembered what had really motivated his rejection of Spike on the battlefield. In the ensuing grief, he had forgotten…

It wasn't his soullessness. It was the earlier betrayal.

Re-souled by Cyvus, his first returning memory had been pouring out his heart to Spike, confiding the length and breadth of his love, and then, mere hours later, cold blue eyes blankly observing as he struggled to retain his soul This memory was closely followed by Spike arrogantly admitting to deliberately using the intense love he had for his childe to banish him and call forth Angelus. The cruelty of it held him stunned.

These were the thoughts that had been running through his head as he'd turned away from Spike.

He'd assumed they'd have time to shout and fight and cry, to express their hurt and offer explanations, before negotiating a truce and falling together in reconciliation, but Spike, as melodramatic as ever, had turned away from him and walked into hell.

Now reconciliation was just some forlorn dream because Spike had chosen someone else. This over-pretty immortal.

Thus, he put together all the pieces of this puzzle and constructed a complete picture. Never suspecting he'd slotted it together badly, for he could see no other way for the different pieces to click together

And however unfair it was, Angel couldn't help it. He blamed Spike. For using his love, for taking his soul, for laying the blame on him, for walking into hell, for choosing Mede….

Grief was overcome by pain. He knew life owed him nothing, but it was hard when what was best in his life turned out to be so mean and contemptible, so weak and insubstantial. Worse still, he loved so much he'd accept even this deeply flawed version of love, if it were only offered.

He looked into Mede's shuttered eyes but his primary audience was his eavesdropping childe.

"You blame me, don't you? And I guess I am to blame because I gave my trust, I gave away the weapon and the power, stupid enough to believe they'd never be used against me. I loved y… Spike, I laid myself bare to him and a few hours later he stole my soul and brought the demon back. Did you find it amusing, something you laughed about together?"

He turned towards the door where he knew Spike stood, his hands went to either side of the door, and he leant his head against the wood, letting all his hurt and pain and despair flood out, whispering words that only Spike's vampiric hearing would catch.

"All my dreams have left me, love has been given away and traded for a handful of ash…."

Angel strode away from where his childe listened and knew that if Spike had only returned to him, he'd have forgiven everything.

Behind the door, Spike stood with tears on his face at hearing the agonies his Angel suffered, he reached for the handle, intent on explaining it all, since Ghan was making such a bloody hash of it.

"We didn't…." Mede began, but was stopped short.

"Just go back to the soulless bastard," Angel said, hiding his despair in anger. "The two of you are well suited. The predictor named him Ghost. Tell him he's not Ghost, he's less than a ghost. He's ash, nothing but ash. He should have died in hell, it would have been better than the soulless thing he's become." Angel remembered the words that had pained Spike so much. "He's beneath me."

The lie burnt in his throat, but he wanted to hurt Spike the way he'd been hurt. Betray him as Spike had betrayed.

Ghan stared in open-mouthed shock.

Spike was held immobilised as he listened to this torrent of words and something blacked out and died inside, and he realised he was standing, frozen and alone, so full of grief that thoughts and words gagged before they could be produced. Angel may have been mistaken about his role in bringing Angelus back, but he was right about something. Strange, in all these weeks he had forgotten what he had become, Ghan had never mentioned his soul, and he had never thought about it. But yeah, Angel was right. His soulless status set him apart from the people he'd called friends. He was beneath them once more. Of course Angel wouldn't want him.

Meanwhile, Ghan found his tongue.

"I don't know what the hell he sees in you. Ask Wesley about how you lost your damned soul!"

He went to the office door and flung it open to reveal a figure slumped against the door jamb.

"As for Spike, his first thought was to come to you, even though he can hardly move. And hey, as usual you let him down when he needs you. Story of your life, isn't it Angel?"

Angel didn't answer. He was staring at the spidery figure that now clung weakly to Mede. He was disappointed; he'd thought he'd see his childe one more time. Then unmistakeable blue eyes turned briefly to his…

Jeez, he'd made such a huge mistake. Spike hadn't abandoned him, just hadn't been able to get to him until now! He couldn't bear to think of the vitriol that had spewed out of his pain.

"Spike!"

Mede slammed the door shut.

Angel flew towards it, but by the time he got there they were gone.

"Spike? Will?"

A howl of utter anguish echoed through the night.

oooo

Ghan stared at the sleeping figure, radiating misery even in slumber.

He'd always felt he should have been a vampire, the selfishness of take, want, have, could be the code by which he lived his life. Now he found himself saddled with a baby he never asked for and a vampire he had.

"Stop staring at me, Ponce."

"You need to get up, Will. You're almost healed… this isn't doing any good."

"Bugger off."

"You need to snap out of it."

"Hey, you're right. Why didn't I think of that? Just get lost."

He turned over and pulled the blankets over his head.

"Listen, we need to talk. Angel's beliefs are coloured by his experience, and he's wrong."

"Don't care what the almighty Poof thinks, and I don't want to talk about him, right?"

Ghan played with his fingers, and noticed his nails had grown back perfectly, which just didn't seem right. They ought to be stubby bitten things.

"Ok, I won't. Instead let me tell you about souls."

Spike was silent, but Ghan sensed he was listening.

"The thing is they're like flowers…."

Spike pfft-ed in annoyance.

"Sounds about right. Bloody poofy things."

Undeterred, he ploughed on.

"Like flowers they have roots. Some are dandelions and some are daisies."

"This better not be going where I think it's going! Call me a daisy and I'm sodding well out here."

"Hush. Listen. So they can be torn away from their natural habitat, but Will, they're only plucked not dug up and removed, they leave behind roots threaded through your awareness, entwined in memory, hidden within the connections you have. Most people who sell their souls have already given up on living a good life, they want something else, and the roots are shrivelled and useless."

He smiled, could almost hear Spike straining towards his words.

"That's not you. You sacrificed it in act of mercy and ultimate selflessness, they plucked the part that blossomed, the best part most might say, but what's left behind is what's important. They left the roots, and now you have a choice. Become a demon and kill the plant, or nurture what's left, feed it make it grow strong again. Prove the prick, I mean, Angel wrong."

Spike pulled the covers down from his face and frowned.

"I can grow a soul?"

"You have the potential to grow a soul. It's not easy. You have to act for good when you have nothing to judge it by."

Spike grasped what he was saying.

"Like when I loved the Slayer, I used to judge my actions by what I thought she would have wanted. I'm like that again. I could kill the kid. It would solve a lot of problems, but… I don't."

"Why not?" Ghan asked softly.

"You love it. You shouldn't you know. They die so quickly."

Ghan was speechless, and could have wept in pity. He couldn't provide the strength or the guidance that Spike needed, he'd lost his own sense of morality years ago. Maybe it was just as well, if he'd been a less selfish man he might have felt the urge to surrender Spike to someone who could light his way…. Luckily that was never going to happen.

"Thank you, Baby. See you can do this. I'll help you."

oooo

They would never forget the sound of his cry. Like a wounded animal howling in the night.

The gang had flown down the stairs, fearing they were under attack, grabbing weapons on the way. Willow was all juiced up, ready to play her part.

It had been too much for him, the rapid disintegration of joy to despair and guilt, and the knowledge that he brought it on himself by allowing his fears to drive him.

Kaleidoscope emotions had blossomed and retreated with each twist, until the patterns of his thoughts shattered, shown as falsehoods by Spike's appearance. His precious William, struggling to reach him, drawn to his sire as he had been all his life.

Mede was right, he'd let his childe down. Misjudged the situation and driven him away. Again.

He didn't know much about love, just a toddler compared to Spike. With Darla he'd learned about selfish love and despite the polar differences between the two women, with Buffy too, it had always been about her. He'd had to look after himself in relationships because no one else gave much thought to his needs. Until Spike turned up, and took his anger and violence with as much gusto as he took his love. Putting him first, but so subtly that Angel never even realised.

He'd tried his best to show that he cared, but it wasn't enough. Spike needed someone who was entirely on his side, someone who would love him and believe in him. As Mede had done.

This time Angel refused to despair. He had an enormous advantage over Mede…. Despite everything, Spike loved him.

So when Willow approached calling his name, concern rolling of her in waves at the sight of him curled up on the floor, his hand had suddenly shot out and grabbed her wrist. The others had all held stilled, memories of Angelus fresh in their minds.

"Find him," he'd rasped.

"Who?"

His eyes were sparking gold, he didn't remember Willow being this dumb.

"Spike."

"Angel, he's dead. Remember?" She replied, her voice sympathetic

"No. He was here."

They had all been expecting some sort of blow-out, but this was hard on them all. Lorne had tears of compassion in his eyes. Gunn shifted uncomfortably. Wesley stepped forward.

"Let go of her, Angel. Now tell us what you think you saw."

"What I think I saw!" He sat up. "He was here!" he exclaimed vehemently.

"Sometimes when you're on the edge of sleep, it's easy to glimpse the thing you most want to see," Wesley suggested gently.

Willow sadly nodded her agreement.

"Listen. I was not on the edge of sleep. Even if I was, why the hell would I see that man? He's the last person I ever want to see."

"Spike?" Now Wesley was becoming confused, and Angel ever more frustrated. He used to think his team pretty damned smart.

"No! Mede. Mede was with him. He was with Mede…"

The others began talking at once, until Willow held up a hand, like a well-behaved student seeking permission to speak.

"Excuse me, who is Mede?"

"Oh sorry, I should have explained," Wesley apologised. "He was contracted by Wolfram & Hart to inspect us, but it turned out he had his own agenda. Spike."

"Spike? He was going to stake him?" she frowned, disliking this man already.

"Uh no, not exactly…. I think, well, in his own way, he loved him."

The light dawned in her eyes. "Oh…. How did Spike react?"

"Well, admittedly Mede is attractive, but you know Spike, naturally he wasn't interested."

"I get that. Not gay, huh?" She was unconcerned. Some of her best friends were heterosexuals.

They all stared at her in incomprehension, before realising that she didn't have a clue about Angel and Spike.

"I don't think such labels really apply to vampires," Wesley explained tentatively. "If there's no urge towards procreation, then I suppose it's about pleasure rather than gender."

"That's not it," Angel said softly. "It's just love, wherever you find it. It's about having the courage to seize it, regardless of who you find it with. What has gender to do with love?"

"Of course." Wesley agreed equally softly.

There were more undertones in this conversation than Willow could catch, but she had to agree. Years ago, she had defiantly defined herself as gay, when all she wanted to say was that she'd found her soul mate, Tara. Let others label it how they wished; she was never anything more or less than a girl deeply in love.

Being outside the judgement of society, Angel got this. Whereas Willow had fallen into the niche society had allotted her. She gazed searchingly at him, her brow screwed up as she tried to make sense of it. No longer the naïve girl she used to be, she recognised the depth of sorrow in Angel's eyes.

"Oh. Oh! You and… Really? Does Buffy…? No, of course… but then he turns up with this Mede who… and… Oh," she ended sadly.

"Why didn't you just hogtie the brat and make him stay?" Lorne asked.

"I would have. Well, probably not hogtie…. I lost him." He still couldn't believe it. "You've no idea how fast I can move when I want to. I was a fraction of a second behind. How could I have lost them? Somehow, they disappeared." He frowned as he remembered how quickly it had all happened.

"I'm not even going to ask why he ran again," Wesley said, "But I'm deeply disappointed in you, Angel."

The dark head hung in shame.

"I guess they could be using portals," Willow hypothesised, "in which case I'd never find him anyway. There's an infinity of dimensions and I wouldn't know where to begin."

"But you could try?"

Willow was about to say that there was very little point, but his desperation struck a chord deep inside. If it was Tara, she'd have searched every dimension she could find, tearing them apart if she had to.

"I guess I could….if you have something of his, sure I can try."

He produced the lighter from his pocket, and reluctantly he gave it into her keeping.

"Angel, don't get your hopes up," Willow said softly. "The odds are worse than a billion to one."

But even when there had been nothing more than a spectre of hope, Angel had clung to it desperately. This was something so much more substantial. Somehow, some day, he would find his beloved childe.

"If it helps, I think time moves a lot slower there. If it had been this long for him he would have healed by now."

"It helps. That rules out about half of the dimensions."

"So we're only left with half of infinity. Great news," Lorne said cheerily.

oooo

Another week passed before he plucked up the courage to leave his sanctuary and step into the world once more. The very first night they walked into trouble. Spike merely watched as a boy got the shit kicked out of him. Ghan felt he should make an effort to fulfil his role as mentor.

"Will, go help him."

"Name's Ghost."

"Ok. Ghost, go help him."

"Are you sure? They're all human."

"Of course, I'm sure."

Spike shrugged and waded in. It was too easy. He managed to restrain himself from breaking too many bones and helped the kid to his feet. Then got a look at him.

"You!" He roared.

The nasty little bugger who'd shot his knees out. He flung himself at the injured boy, one punch knocking him clean of his feet. By the time his rage retreated enough to realise that Ghan was screaming at him and trying to hold him back, the boy was lying unmoving on the ground.

They both stepped back.

"Why did you do that? Have you gone insane!"

"He's the git who tried to bloody well kill me!"

"Oh."

It seemed fair enough to Ghan, but he had the feeling that Angel wouldn't have agreed. He suddenly noticed Spike stepping forward.

"Is he dead?" Ghan asked.

"Not yet." Spike said, licking the blood from his knuckles, drawn inexorably closer, until he was kneeling over the human, his fangs itching in their sockets.

"Hey, don't bite him!"

Spike blinked and the glaze cleared from his eyes. With some disappointment he shook his face back to humanity.

"Oh, right. Umm. Not even a taste?"

"No, Will."

"You never used to be so uptight about it in the old days. You knew I used to hunt."

Suddenly, with that comparison in his head, Ghan realised why it would be wrong.

"It was your nature, you were a predator. But now you're so much more. True, I don't give a shit if you hunt, but Will? You do."

Spike was struck by this notion. Did he care? He supposed he must, else why was he here trying to save people?

"Ok. So what should we do?" Spike asked looking at the injured human. "Call an ambulance?"

Ghan had been about to walk away.

"Oh, uh… yeah. I guess."

They eventually headed back into Ghan's world, tired and uncertain. This wasn't going to work, a child leading a childe; they just ended up getting more lost and confused.

The human refused to give up at the first hurdle.

"You know? I think from now on, we'll leave human affairs out of it. We'll stick to demons, ok?" he announced brightly.

"Ok," Spike agreed, but frowned, wasn't that what he'd suggested right at the start?

oooo

Angel watched the team, and worried. Sure, they searched for Spike, but did they truly understand what they might be dealing with? Supposing he persuaded Spike to come back… what would happen if Will slipped up? If he began to hunt? If he killed? Would they plot against him? Stake him?

Willow hadn't discovered his whereabouts, which was hardly surprising.

What was surprising was Angel's decision to call off the search.

"What's with you?" Gunn asked, his voice pitched with disbelief.

"It's none of your business."

"Don't be so bloody patronising, Angel. We owe him something, he's our friend."

Angel was taken aback by Wesley's vehemence, but he'd given some considerable thought to this, and decided there were some risks he was unwilling to take, so he ploughed on despite their glowering looks and hostile eyes.

"Fine. Will you still consider him a friend when he rips open your neck and drains you dry? He's evil, Wes. He'd kill you all."

"Oooh, I know! We'll find him and I could curse him, you know, like I did with you. Getting kind of expert at it."

"Give him an empty, half life. It would drive him insane. I think he'd rather be dead than suffer that. It's not an option, Willow."

"Ok, we don't curse him. We give him a chance."

"And then we're back to ripped necks and the draining of blood," Lorne replied nervously.

"He took my place when he stepped into hell, so I suppose I owe him a death, and for the comfort he gave Fred he can have every damned drop. But I think you already know he's not going to do that. You saw him with Fr… Illyria. He cares for us, Angel. When did Spike ever kill those he cared for?"

"Don't romanticise him, Wesley. He's a demon who killed his own mother."

"As I understand it, he thought he was saving her, and his actions traumatised him for the next one hundred years. Do you really think he'll try something like that again?"

"I don't know. Do you want to risk it?"

"Maybe we should at least attempt to find him. It's not right that we just abandon him by himself…."

"He's not by himself, and I've had enough of this conversation. For all our sakes, I forbid you to look for him."

Angel strode out of the room and the crash of the door shook the old building to its foundations.

Lorne flinched. "Ok. That's us told."

Gunn saw the determination in Wesley's eyes, Willow's resolve face, Lorne's concern, and squared his shoulders. They would continue searching despite Angel's injunction.

"We need something more than this futile hunt through dimensions. So whaddya think? Any ideas?" he asked.

They shared conspiratorial looks, and it was silently agreed. They would defy Angel.

"Hmmm. Back to old fashioned methods. I've never met anyone who belongs in this modern world as much as Spike. He'll be back, and somehow he just can't help creating a noise."

"So we start asking around. Pick up some of our old demon contacts."

"You'd go against me, for Spike?"

Startled, they turned as one towards the voice. There was Angel standing only meters from them. Willow shifted guiltily, Lorne had the doe in the headlights look, but the others stiffened their backs.

"We're going to look for him, Angel, whether you approve or not," Wesley informed him.

"Good."

"And there's no point you…. Uh, what did you say?"

"Good. Sorry, but I needed to be sure that you all understood what we would be taking on, and had to be certain that I could trust each one of you not to make any mistakes."

"You were testing us?" Lorne asked, outraged at being hoodwinked.

"Yeah. Sorry," he said again. "And Wes, please don't encourage him to think that you owe him blood. I'd rather he fought the urge to drain you."

"What would you have done if we'd failed the test?" Gunn asked curiously.

"He's my priority, Gunn. Everything else is irrelevant."

His face told them that he'd have abandoned everything and everyone to be with Spike.

oooo

Ghan was almost as distraught as the kid.

"We didn't leave him long!"

"It wasn't long to us. It was most of the night to him. Anyway he's safe enough. What's a few tears?" Spike asked, unconcerned by the screaming child.

"He's frightened."

"So he should be. Scary vampire here."

He turned into gameface and growled. The baby stopped crying and stared, mouth open in fascination.

Ghan continued comforting the child with reassuring touches and gentle words.

"I'm sorry. I can't go with you any more, Will. We can't take him with us as long as the Fell exists, and Trouble needs me with him."

"And I need trouble. It's ok, I can do this. Just demons, yeah?"

"Just the bad demons. Ones that hurt humans. You'll be fine. You have more judgement than you know."

So Spike began his lonely patrols. Slaying vampires, saving humans, and each life he saved he felt less and less connection to these eternal victims. Some of them were so bloody stupid they deserved to be food.

He started staying away longer, and then discovered that he still had the lease to his old apartment. Sometimes he would be gone for days at a time. Ghan suspected that he was subliminally willing Angel to find him.

That thought never consciously crossed Spike's mind. He had discovered the victims could be very grateful, and he needed somewhere to take them when they eagerly offered compensation. So he'd escape for a while in the grunt and the huddle of sex, taking whatever comfort presented itself.

Until one night, one of them offered him a twist of a package, and to his delight he found yet another way to ease his pain.

He would eventually return to Ghan, reeking of sex and crashing to earth, frequently just tumbling to bed and staying there. Spike's days away were weeks for Ghan, and no longer having the link around his wrist, he had no way of looking out for him.

"What am I going to do with you, Will?"

Staring at his gaunt face, he realised Spike was no longer the same person who had set out on this difficult journey so full of hope; instead, here was a man intent on losing himself. Ghan could do nothing but watch him on his road to self destruction.

He finally acknowledged that he'd been beaten. He didn't know how to deal with this darkness in Will, and knew he would have to visit the one person he swore he'd never approach again.

When Spike came around, he left Trouble in his care and once again found himself inside the Hyperion.

oooo

The months had rolled by with the gang growing in confidence as their reputation spread. There wasn't a demon who didn't know of their victory against hell. Work was also picking up momentum. They were kept busy with cases, some of which even paid. Their only frustration was the fruitlessness of their search for Spike.

Then rumours began to surface of people being saved by a stranger. Angel's heart leapt in hope. They tracked every lead, until one day their breakthrough came, someone actually knew of someone who had been rescued by this newcomer. Gunn and Wes went out to interview her. Angel waited through the day on tenterhooks.

They dragged their heels coming back, hating to let the vampire down. He was hovering in reception, clearly waiting for them,

"Sorry, man," Gunn said sympathetically. "We tried. The description didn't match."

He was blown away with disappointment. Then realised that he'd never mentioned to anyone Spike's changed appearance.

"Describe him." He demanded, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

Wesley nodded.

"Angel. It's not him. He's not blonde, and he doesn't wear a black leather coat… In fact he's either bald or closely shaved, and his clothes are jeans and a dark brown leather jacket. Can you imagine him parting with his coat, or shaving his head?"

"His hair was burnt away in the fire. I imagine his coat was too. Did she mention a scar on his eyebrow?"

Both Wesley and Gunn looked up in interest.

"The initial description sounded so little like him, that you know? We didn't ask."

By the end of the day they had one confirmed sighting of Spike! Willow attempted a scan, but the news they'd received was over a week old and he was gone again. Still they considered it a major breakthrough. He was out on the streets saving people, which was amazing for a soulless demon. They felt buoyed; their faith in him had proved justified.

That night they celebrated.

And just a month or so later it seemed their celebration was justified when Ghan appeared in the reception of the old hotel.

The first person he saw he didn't recognise, but her eyes widened, and she flushed pink.

"Wow… I guess you must be Mede. Uh, I'm Willow, and I'm telling you, Mister, we will get Spike back, and…."

Her heart wasn't in it. He was so pretty and sad looking, she wanted to hug him. As though he could read her thoughts, he smiled at her, and her entire speech dribbled out of her brain.

"It's ok, Willow. I've got this," Angel's voice sounded behind her.

"Oh, thank goddess," she sighed in relief.

The two men walked into Angel's office.

"Well?" Angel asked as he watched Mede wander around his office, picking up the odd relic and trailing fingers over furniture.

He eventually finished his examination of the room, came to his final decision and turned to face Angel.

"I want to explain to you about souls…."

Twenty minutes later Angel was wondering what this meant for him.

Mede explained. "Yours is floating, kind of rootless. Being forced to have a soul is like putting a flower into a vase. It lives, it looks no different to those growing in earth, but when it's pulled out it leaves nothing behind. It's different for Spike."

"This is just a theory, isn't it? You don't know…."

"I want you to see something."

Ghan cut a finger through the air and a small slash opened into his world.

"Look."

Angel did and caught his breath. There was Spike on his back, asleep. He was in gameface, and nestled against his cheek was a baby, no more than a couple of months old. The babe sprawled across the sleeping vampire, with one little fist wrapped tightly around a long, protruding fang….

"Mede! Ghan… we have to rescue the baby. He won't be able to resist, he'll…."

The window into this other world closed over.

"You still have so little faith in him that I wonder if I do right," the man sighed. "Relax, Angel. Spike was tired and going into his vampire face settles the kid. They often fall asleep like this. So tell me, does he look like a soulless monster to you?"

Angel shook his head. He really was beginning to believe that this would all work out ok for Spike, and his heart twanged with the pride that he felt for his childe. Mede looked at him, and his gaze contained a hint of approval, for the first time, Angel had actually considered Spike before himself.

"So why are you telling me this? Showing me this?"

"Here's the thing, Will is going out in the world, rescuing people. I can't leave Trub, so Will is there alone. He's saving lives, but he's losing himself. He's angry at you, but in a way, this all to prove himself to you. I think he's proved enough and now he needs help."

"Can I go to him?" Angel asked hopefully

"No. It's my world, and anyway I'm not risking my kid. No one goes there but me and Will. But if you wait a while, he will be recovered enough to venture back. You know where his apartment is? Just keep an eye open for him."

Angel could hardly believe this man would willingly give Spike up. He finally understood why he hated Ghan so much. He was jealous of the genuine attachment between the two of men.

"And Angel. Do it right this time."

Angel looked almost grim.

"I will," he promised.

oooo

The girl stumbled out still thanking him for saving her life. Minutes after she pulled it to, the door opened again.

Spike was glad he was stoned. It made it easier.

"Get lost," he requested, without even opening his eyes.

"What?"

Angel wasn't wholly surprised by the greeting, after all, it was no more than he deserved.

"You heard me. You ain't welcome here."

"I came…."

"Couldn't give a shag why you came. Just want you to haul your arse outta of here, yeah?"

He knew he wasn't handling this right, but he was tired and sad and confused. So he did as always had, and hid it all behind anger and attitude.

Angel squinted through the smoky atmosphere.

"Supposing I said I'm sorry?"

"Supposing I said piss off?"

"Spike, you're making a big mistake."

Angel had known it wouldn't be easy but he'd at least expected Spike to be involved. This detached rejection gave Angel nothing to work with.

"I don't need you, don't need your pity or your…"

"Why the hell would you have my pity?"

"'Xactly. Don't want it, don't need it. I'm friggin' happy, me."

"Uh huh. So who were you with tonight? Do you even remember her name?"

"Not your bizz, I'm thinking."

"And what's that shit you're smoking?"

"Who d'you think you are? My bloody Mum?"

"No. You killed her."

His eyes flew open. Well that wasn't cool. In fact it was damned off.

"Oh thank you. Thank you very much!"

Angel was happy just to get a rise out of him. He continued to punch away with words.

"So what do you do with yourself, Spike? Go out at night, wander the streets, fight the monsters and then what? Come back here and spend the days off your face and out of your head? Yeah, I can see you're real happy."

"The name's Ghost, Spike's dead, remember? Ash ain't he?"

Angel recalled his bitter words with a frisson of shame, and lowered his head.

"Shall I tell you what I do, Poof? I go out and save people and it's hard. It's hard cus I don't want to do it. You know what I want to do? I want to forget what I was, wish I could give it up and let the world go to hell, and everyday I'm that little bit closer. Each victim I save, the blood, on their skin calls to me. But I can't get my kicks like that anymore, can I? Gotta be a good little vampire. "

Spike pulled in another drag of heady smoke and held it, allowing its effects to rapidly diffuse through his body.

"Yeah, here I am, getting my highs any way I can, so that tomorrow I can go through the same old shit. And it ain't living, but that's ok, ain't it? Cus I'm just a sodding dead thing. So you go back to your life and leave me to whatever I have left." He breathed out smoke with each word, like a dragon in human form.

"I'm not alive either."

"What?"

He stared at Angel so hard that the figure swirled in patterns before his eyes. Spike let his smouldering roll-up fall to one side, watching the deconstruction in fascination. The last hit must have been good. And then colours coalesced back into the shape of his sire; changeless, despite the fact that everything had changed. It brought tears to his eyes.

"You told me to go back to my life. I'm dead too, Spike. I'm dead."

"Huh. Two deaths don't make a rite," he announced sadly.

"Shit, you're as high as a kite!"

Despite his melancholy, Spike let out a small giggle. He was mellowed out, floating above the room. Angel was so funny.

"And it rhymes. Together we make really crap poetry. But I don't need you cus I can make crap poetry all by meself. So, what yer gonna do, Angel? Be my white knight, come charging in to save me?" Spike started to giggle again. "The Master always called you the Irish Stallion. You're not the white knight; are you? You're just the bleedin' horse."

Angel turned away.

"Save yourself, Ghost. You're right. Spike is long dead. You're not even a pale imitation of him. You know why not? My Will, was a fighter."

He slammed the door as he left.

The floor was rapidly coming up to meet Spike and it was a bumpy landing. He no longer felt mellow. That was the trouble with a vampire constitution, his body fought off foreign substances and he recovered too quickly. He knew he'd done the right thing. Until he got his soul back he refused to be with Angel, to be treated as something inferior, knowing brown eyes would be watching, wishing for the old Spike…. Except he was beginning to think it would never happen. He hadn't lied. Every day he was closer to slipping.

"What's left to fight for, Angel! What the friggin' hell is left to fight for…?"

He slumped back wearily, and then looked up in surprise, as the door burst open.

This was new, Angel had never returned before. It was always up to Spike to go chasing after him. He thought maybe it was a hallucination, some bad shit maybe. But being buried underneath 180lbs of solid vampire drilled the reality into him.

"Peaches…."

"Will…," Angel replied, and kissed him.

Things went to hell as soon as they tried words, so Angel let his kiss say everything that was in his heart. It spoke of love, passion, desire, affection, laughter and life's every need.

TBC


	18. Part 18

This completes the fiction. Thank you to all those who have taken the time to read such a long fic, and huge appreciation to all of you have commented, e-mailed, left me feedback and generally inspired me. And finally I have to thank Stars for her mammoth beta-ing job. You've been an angel, sweetie.

Summary: So the story winds to its conclusion

Warning: Some strong language and slightsuggestion of m/m sex

Pairing: Angel/Spike

Feedback: Please let me know what you think

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Joss's, ME's etc.

**Part 18**

For a moment he lost himself in the kiss. Pretended it was real and they were still the same people they always had been. Angel's hopes soared as Spike responded, and he made the mistake of relaxing his guard, giving Spike a chance to speak.

"Get of me, you bloody fat…."

Well that was easily dealt with.

"No."

Angel was pleased. So far the conversation was going pretty good.

"Whaddya mean no?" Spike lashed out and started to buck him off angrily.

Angel pinned his arms down.

"I mean no, I'm not getting off you. Ever again. You got me so damned mad, but believe me, there's nothing you could do to make me walk away." Since the conversation was going so well, Angel decided to risk more. "Talk to me, Spike."

"I am talking, just that you seemed to have gone deaf. Stop messing around, I mean it. Let. Me. Up."

"No. I won't. I'm not losing you, if I have to chain you up, until you love me again. Until you forgive me."

Spike shook his head. "Nah, crappy plan. Didn't work for me."

Angel was momentarily distracted.

"What are you talking on about? Who did you chain up?"

Unbelievably, he felt more than a little jealous, causing Spike to raise a quizzical eyebrow.

"Dru and Buffy," he admitted.

"Oh God!" He clung tighter to the thin body. "One day you'll tell me how you the hell you got out of that one alive."

Spike couldn't maintain his anger in the wake of such concern. They lay face to face, nose to nose, so close and intimate that it left Spike with nowhere to hide, he felt naked beneath those all-seeing eyes.

"What's happening, Angel? What is this?"

"Sorry. I thought I'd made it clear. I'm not letting you go. I'm going to be here for you Spike. I would have been anyway, I've been searching ever since I saw you…" he held on a little tighter. "But Ghan told me about your soul, and…."

"Ghani told you…!"

"Yeah. I mean, he took his time, and drew out the agony…." Angel considered that encounter for a second. "You know, I think he was judging me… which means he must have decided I deserve you." The thought humbled him and he laid his cheek to Spike's. "Jesus Spike, we're meant to be together! If he's judged it to be then there's nothing we can do, we're written in the stars!"

It's the way things worked, Ghani judged and it happened, Spike couldn't deny it. All their long lives he and Angel had been fighting against fate for every minute they were together, and now it seemed that fate had finally shrugged its shoulders and given up.

Angel kissed him again.

"I'm going to be here for you, Will. I'll help you with your soul. It's not just you any more."

"Yeah? Christ, now I am worried. You can hardly keep hold of your own, and your judgement ain't always up to scratch is it?"

"I guess that's fair, but its different now, what I won't necessarily do for my own sake, I'll do for you. I'm not going to let you down, Spike. I'll advise you and tell you what to do when you're confused, pick you up when you fall, kiss it better when you get hurt."

The words were manna from heaven. The temptation of never being alone…. The temptation of having Angel once more…. And Spike finally stopped fighting. Nonetheless, a small frown marred his brow. It sounded like a good deal, except….

"I dunno, it kind of goes against the grain."

"What does?"

"Me taking your advice. I think I'm pathologically incapable…."

"Bit harsh, Will. Pathological perhaps, but I wouldn't say incapable. You're more than capable."

"Oy! Uh, actually, that was almost a compliment."

"No, it was a compliment, idiot." His voice held a warmth that Spike couldn't help basking in. "And it's not just me. The whole gang believe you can do this. You have to come back. If you don't they'll make my life hell."

"Angel! I only have to lose it once and that's the lot of them writhing on the ground in their own blood."

"Uh huh. So you think you could kill even one of them? I'd forgive you, but you'd never forgive yourself, and I don't even want to think about what Willow would do to you. Shovels would be the least of your worries."

Spike didn't know where to begin addressing this speech.

"You'd forgive me? If I killed them?"

"I believe in you, Spike. You're not going to kill any of them except by terrible accident, and if that ever happens, I'll be here to put you together again."

He wished he had Angel's certainty.

"Uh, so what's this about Red?"

"She's joining the team. Temporarily."

"Is she then? She's a strange one, Angel, walks the edge of the precipice, much as we do. Loyal though. That's one person you need by your side."

"There's only one person I need by my side."

"But you didn't want me. You said it was cus I'm soulless…." Spike pouted.

"I lie, Spike. You know that. The first time I was angry because I thought you'd engineered Angelus' return. The second time I was angry because I thought you'd chosen Mede. I think I get angry too quick, but you know that too. Maybe you can break me of it, given time?"

The appeal in his eyes seemed genuine.

"Is this for real?" Spike asked. "I don't think I'd want to face another day if I awake and find it's just another bloody dream. I don't want to wake up and find I'm beneath you."

"Oh Jesus, Will. I'm sorry for that. I have so much to regret, but those words come top of the list. There is no comparison between us. Selflessness, kindness, love, all come naturally to you. I struggle with a couple of them even when I have a soul. There is no one like you. No one."

Spike closed his eyes.

"You make me believe in myself. Make me want to be good," he whispered.

Angel finally rolled off Spike, stood up and reached out a hand

"Let's go out and see if we can save someone."

"Peaches?"

Only a short time ago Angel had been desperately clinging to the past, but now….

"I know we haven't said everything yet, but Will, you're alive and you're with me, and that's how it's gonna stay…. I guess I'm in a hurry to start our new life. I can't wait, I want to immerse myself in our future right now, do everything right now…."

Spike got to his feet and Angel laughed and hugged him.

"I want to go out and save people with you, I want to hold you, I want to watch TV with you, I want to tease you and you to laugh at me. There's so much to look forward to! Don't you feel it Spike?"

And Spike did. He could feel the burden of life lifting, it suddenly held so much potential. It was heady, more so than any drug he'd ever tried. Somewhere deep inside, new green shoots were springing from old roots, and producing tiny buds, which would one day blossom into something beautiful.

"Yeah, I feel it. It's kind of like I'm a kid, opening my eyes on Christmas day. Everything looks new and full of hope."

It was all anticipation and the promise of snow, and the scent of candles and pine. It was a world that still held a sense of wonder for him.

"It's Christmas Eve tomorrow," Angel smiled.

"Is it? This going between dimensions, I lose all sense of time."

"I'm not surprised," Angel smiled affectionately. "So you wanna patrol?"

Spike gave a grin, and his weariness dropped away as the two of them stepped into the night together.

It was a good night.

They chased down what they took to be a feral vampire only to find themselves in the heart of an ambush. They looked around at the surrounding vamps, then stood back-to-back, and let them come. These unlucky demons had picked the wrong night. Angel and Spike were untouchable; they were flying that night. The fight was a peacock's display for his mate. They flowed with the grace and speed of acrobats, and killed with fluid strength. Surreptitiously they watched each other with admiration. When the last vampire scurried away they began to laugh. Not because it was amusing but out of sheer pleasure at finding their old synchronicity and the joy of being together.

Their laughter chilled the fleeing vampire to his marrow, and the stories he told that night caused at least a dozen more to up sticks and leave town. It was no longer a healthy city to bring up childer.

They burst into the Hyperion, touching, talking, eyes sparkling. Until Spike caught sight of the humans ranged before him. Silently he appealed to Angel for help, despite previous reassurances, he was nervous.

"Hey."

Suddenly Willow was hugging him.

"Don't you ever disappear again, Mister. Next time he's mean to you, you just come and tell me. We'll soon sort him out." She moved her mouth to his ear. "He's missed you so much, Spike," she whispered before stepping away.

"Hey, bloodsucker."

"Gunn. Glad you lived."

"Thanks, me too. I mean glad to see you're alive. Although, I'm glad I lived too," he explained with a laugh.

Willow's eyes widened in pleasure as she recognised a kindred babbler.

Wesley shook his hand.

"Welcome back Spike."

It seemed weirdly formal after all they'd been through, but he said it like he meant it.

"Percy."

Wesley smiled at hearing the old nickname again.

"Spikehun! Oh, nice hair." Spike's hand self consciously flew to his head. Lorne smiled reassuringly. "Shows of those edible cheekbones of yours. Don't stand around like a stranger. Come in. Have a drink, it's your favourite. Well…" he ladled out a cup of liquid dubiously, "I was told it was your favourite."

"You used to steal burba weed from Anya, you said it made the blood taste better," Willow explained. "Lorne wasn't sure how much to put in, and none of us could really test it…."

Spike sipped tentatively, whilst the others waited in anticipation. He just about managed not to gag on it.

"Lorne, that is bloody marvellous! You're a genius, Mate."

They all smiled in relief and gradually began chatting easily. As soon as attention was off him, he emptied it into a potted plant.

They turned to stare at Angel as he snorted in laughter, which then got turned into an unrealistic cough. He faded effortlessly into the background, allowing everyone their moment with Spike, until he jealously decided that they'd taken up enough of his time for one night.

"Ok. It's late, so we'd better…." He gestured to the stairs.

Spike hid a smile, subtle as a brick, as usual.

"We'll catch up tomorrow, yeah? Angel and I got into a scrap with a few vampires, and I'm kind of knackered….

It was like an episode of The Waltons, but they waited until the last goodnight had been thrown out.

"What now."

Angel moved closer.

"You need washing."

"I need a lot of things…."

Spike began to walk up the stairs.

"Thought you said you were knackered…."

"I am, but some parts of me are feeling quite perky."

Angel groaned softly.

"I need to touch you, smell you, taste you, hold you. I want to drown in you."

It felt like stepping back in time.

"Can we forget all the shit, and go back to that night?"

Angel didn't need to ask which one.

"So I'll pretend that I thought you were dead, and you pretend you weren't sure if I really loved you."

"Ok, I guess we can 'pretend' that." Spike quirked an eyebrow and laughed.

Angel grinned back.

"But this time I'll try not to become too happy."

"Not that it matters anymore." Spike said, as he walked with Angel into the bedroom.

"What?" Angel came to a halt.

"You know… your curse? Christ…. They've forgotten to mention it, haven't they?"

"Spike…?"

"The happiness clause, you remember you got Wes researching it? He came up with an answer."

"Okay…. So what do we have to do?"

"You might wanna sit down, Peaches. The answer was that you had to lose your soul and then be cursed by someone with a warped idea of happiness. Cyvus' particular pleasure was draining the life out of children. Painfully. Charming, eh? Somehow I can't see your soul going anywhere soon."

"Jesus…. Jesus, Spike!"

His knees gave out, and he sat heavily on to the bed.

"Yeah. Must be kind of overwhelming, huh?"

"Jesus… I'm free at last."

Spike went cold, remembering his fear that Angel would leave if his curse were lifted. Then he smiled because Angel said he wasn't going anywhere again, and he refused to fall into the old vicious circle of doubt and misery.

"Yeah, you are," he said affectionately.

"I thought I was damned to endless nights watching you leave with people like that girl because you couldn't get what you needed from me…." Moisture beaded at the corner of his eyes. "Ghan told me to ask Wes about your soul. I forgot. In the commotion that followed, I forgot. So that's why you let me go that night?"

"Nah. I didn't bring Angelus back on purpose. Is that what you thought? I couldn't do it to you. But then it happened anyway and I just had to work with the material I had."

"Well you convinced Angelus."

"Don't know how, anyone with half a brain would know I'd never let you go."

"I wanted to forgive you, but now I find you don't need it," Angel said plaintively, pulling a disappointed face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm sure I'm gonna need plenty of forgiveness in the future, and I'd just as soon be in credit. It's good actually, it means I owe you a bad and evil act," Spike grinned.

The logic of this escaped Angel and he didn't look too happy at the idea of his childe having carte blanche to do God knows what. He had to do some quick thinking.

"You walked into hell to escape me. I think you've used up the credit."

"Well…. It wasn't as simple as that. Your look made me realise that I would gradually deteriorate into the vampire I used to be. Didn't want to be that person, did I? Anyway, Wes had more to lose. One day he'll meet someone else, have little sprogs crawling around his feet, make new friends, save more people. When I weighed it up, it seemed that his life was worth more than mine."

Angel was speechless and merely gazed at him in wonder.

"What? Why yer staring at me, Poof?"

"Have I told you all the reasons I love you? All the ways you're beautiful?"

Spike smiled, his eyes alight.

"Just the once, but it bears repeating."

"Ah, that's the old list. I've got a hundred new ones to add."

"A hundred?" Spike wrinkled his brow in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

"Well no. Could be more…."

"So we repeat that night."

"Yes, but with a different ending."

"Uh huh. What ending have you got in mind?"

"We'll see. I like to be impulsive. But bearing in mind that my soul is secured…."

"Shit, this'll make me sound like a right wanker, but I'm nervous. It's been a nearly two months since I've seen you, and now…."

Angel's mouth quirked with humour.

"Imagine how I feel, it's been over a year for me."

"Doesn't matter though. It's still just you and me." Spike cast his eyes down and then peeked up through his lashes. "I'm dirty, Angel… wash me."

It was a night of rediscovery, and it was a night of firsts.

And it was all beautiful.

It was dizzying, they were free falling through the moment, holding tight to each other, floating gently back to earth.

"After making love, Spike moved to his place on Angel's shoulder and was lulled to sleep by the scent of them both.

Later that morning and there was a banging at the door.

"Get up you lazy things! It's Christmas Eve. Willow's flying out to be with her family, Lorne's mixing eggnog, and we're hitting the mall."

Spike opened an eye and saw Angel gazing back. They smiled at each other.

"You got me pressies then, Peaches?"

"I haven't had a chance. I only found you a few hours ago."

Spike's face fell. "I lost all the stuff you bought me last time. Buried under the Wolfram& Hart rubble I guess."

Angel reached out and stroked his skin, still hardly believing that this was real. That he could just reach out and touch his lover… touch Spike.

"Come on. Let's hit the shops."

"Got no money."

"Course you have. You've got a couple of months pay from Wolfram & Hart stashed away in your bank account."

"Really?" Spike was out of bed in a flash. "Come on, hurry up lazy bones."

Angel threw a pillow at him but Spike dodged and laughed.

The others heard laughter and after a long sojourn, it felt like they were finally home.

oooo

The mall was busy, and they split into pairs for moral support. Angel wasn't happy about letting Spike out of his sight, but accepted that shopping together would kind of take the surprise out of unwrapping presents.

Spike complained continually about the Christmas muzak following them wherever they went. Then he complained about the queues (although he just pushed to the front anyway), the tackiness of the decorations and the false good cheer at the checkout. Yet strangely, it was Gunn who cracked first.

"No more! I can't stand this. Have you finished yet, dude."

"Huh? What's up?"

Gunn hated to admit it. It made him sound girly.

"My damned feet are killing me."

"Okay. One more thing and I'm ready to go. Look you go sit down, grab a coffee, and I'll meet you back here."

That was the best offer Gunn was going to get all day, so he snatched at it eagerly, whilst Spike nervously made his way to a small parlour he knew of.

When they got back, they fell into a flurry of secrecy. Shop wrapped gifts began to appear under the tree, and other presents were squirreled out of sight.

Angel refused to join the wrangle for the one pair of scissors, it was undignified, besides which, Spike was hogging them so he stood no chance. Instead he opened the weapons cabinet and brought out his hand forged, folded steel, Japanese sword. The blade could split a hair. Making sure that Spike was watching, Angel floated a sheet of tissue through the air and neatly cut it in two.

Spike watched the display enviously, glaring contemptuously at his safety scissors. Angel grinned smugly and disappeared with his sword and his bags of presents.

"Wanker," Spike muttered, and eyed his own axe; it was pretty sharp but a bit inaccurate. He'd probably end up chopping off his own hand….

By the late evening everything was piled around the Christmas tree. They surveyed it with satisfaction.

"How about some Christmas spirit?" Lorne suggested, and busied himself pouring healthy measures of eggnog into tall tumblers.

The thick liquid was eye d suspiciously. Until they tasted it. Lorne watched with satisfaction as they knocked it back and begged for more.

"Guaranteed to produce Christmas cheer. Or so I've been told."

It certainly oiled the wheels of conversation, and soon they were all settled and chatting comfortably.

"I didn't know vampires celebrated Christmas," Wesley said.

"Generally we don't, but if it involves presents then Spike celebrates," Angel explained.

"Uh huh. There speaks the Scrooge of Europe."

Angel hid a small smile, instead allowing a stern frown to settle on his face.

"A souled vampire wouldn't call their Sire names."

"What?"

"Well you're trying to be good, so I'm just saying."

Spike stilled and frowned, not wholly convinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Would I lie to you? I'm only telling you this because I said I'd help you. You know, just trying to aid you on your journey…"

"Oy, Percy?" Spike decided to get a second opinion on this point. "What would I do if I was souled d'ya think?"

Angel relaxed, certain that Wesley would back him up.

Wesley sat forward as he seriously considered the question, and then came to a conclusion.

"In my opinion, you'd have laughed at him and told him to stop being such a wanker."

The eggnog had given Wesley the honesty of an inebriate.

"Hah, I knew it! Thanks, mate."

Wesley raised his glass in acknowledgement.

"S'posed to be my bleedin' advisor, my yoda. Abusing your position that's what yer doing!" Spike complained.

"I'm hoping to," Angel admitted.

Spike looked outraged.

"That's it! I'm not doing anything you ask without going through the Watcher first."

"That could make tonight interesting…."

They both eyed Wesley speculatively, but too much Christmas spirit had nudged him from relaxed to sleepy. He had fallen into a pleasant doze and heard nothing.

"Guys? I'm comfortable with you two, just please, treat me like a kid, and don't talk about it in front of me ok?" Gunn asked plaintively.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to the Poof eventually."

Angel didn't even attempt to hide his long suffering sigh at the continued name calling.

"Never mind. It was worth a try." Lorne said sympathetically.

"Come on, Pet, don't take it to heart. You know they're just signs of affection."

He laid a hand on Angel's thigh, which seemed to placate him.

Wesley came around slightly, and drowsily they talked into the night. Talked of the past two years, Wolfram & Hart, the battle and all that had happened since. They shed tears and raised a glass for all those they'd lost, and then raised another for the coming year, laying all that had gone before to rest. They talked of their life now, and the Agency. Wesley was thinking it was time he moved out.

"At first it was hard, and I needed you." He nodded to Angel, Gunn and Lorne. "But I think it's time. I want to thank you all for everything. And I want to thank you Spike, for giving me my life."

"Now don't get all sentimental on me, Percy. Let's just say you owe me one, yeah?"

Wesley nodded, and Spike was feeling rather pleased at all the favours he was storing up. It was always good to have debts to call in.

Lorne thought he might open a new bar, hope winning out over experience. But quite simply he missed the life and needed to get back to it.

"Besides, I can make more contacts if I had a bar, which, you know, is also good for Angel investigations."

"I'll be looking for a place too, perhaps in the new year." Gunn said. "It's not fair on you two, having us hanging around. You need your privacy."

With those words it suddenly occurred to the vampires what this was about… and hell, last night they hadn't even been noisy!

"Don't you worry, Charlie Boy. We quite enjoy having an audience…."

"Spike!"

Gunn covered his ears.

"Not in front of the kid, remember?"

The others smiled and blinked sleepy eyes. One by one they all turned in for the night.

Except for Spike.

"I'm not tired. I've got a gift or two to deliver. Catch you later, yeah?"

Angel frowned and Spike shook his head.

"Trust me?"

"Of course," Angel said immediately, and he meant it.

Using the key that Ghan had left him he opened the door to his world.

It was night time and the two of them were sleeping. He placed the parcels at the side of the bed. Looking at the beautiful man in repose he saw him anew. Someone he'd always taken for granted had turned out to be pivotal in his life. He stroked the tawny skin of his wrist, where his skin had once been tied. He felt sorry for the man. Maybe the baby would be his salvation.

"Thanks Ghan, I do love you, you know."

When he left, Ghani stared blankly at the ceiling. This is why he didn't help all those who cried to him. He became attached to them, healed them, but the paradox was once they were whole they never needed him anymore. Sometimes he felt like giving up. He breathed in the scent of the baby, and decided he'd manage for another eighteen years or so.

He reached down to the gifts Spike had left, picking up a small box. He opened it and pulled out a thin strip of white vampire skin. An invitation to keep in touch? He smiled, tied it around his wrist, and held it to his cheek. The next parcel contained a book of names. On the flyleaf Spike had written in large letters, "Trouble is not a name. Neither is Trub. Choose a new one. Luv me." Ghan began to laugh.

Angel heard the door open.

"Ok?" he asked.

"Yeah. They were sleeping."

"They should come to visit. I mean, once we have Willow back, there's enough power gathered here to protect the baby for a while."

"Thanks, luv. I 'ppreciate it."

The look in Spike's eyes made Angel thankful that he hadn't backed away from the offer. This was the start of their new life. One where they loved without doubt, believed without proof, and trusted without fear.

"I'm sorry, Spike, for all the times I've messed up. Whatever happens, I need you to know that this is real, and this is forever."

"Hey, it's ok. There's no need," Spike replied softly.

"You've been here, in this place all along, just waiting for me to join you. All the times you've returned, because you believed in me…."

"Yeah, and I was right to believe, cus you're standing here with me now."

They finally believed in what they had. It was a bond of steel forged, tested and proved through fire and death. Souled and unsouled, good and evil, they had protected each other.

"Do you want to open one of your presents now?"

Angel opened an eye. "Maybe…."

"I remember how you looked once, when I mentioned piercings."

Now Angel had both eyes open.

"So I got you five gold rings. Christmas, yeah? Well strictly speaking some are bars and they're not all gold… so what do you think, do you wanna unwrap…."

Suddenly Spike was flat on his back with Angel on top. Spike craned his head and flicked a studded tongue over one of Angel's nipples. Angel groaned as it lashed him.

"One," Spike said.

Then his shirt was roughly pulled off; fingers began exploring, and Angel's night vision catching a glint of something on Spike's chest. He put a finger to each one and tugged. This time it was Spike who groaned, and Angel stored the information away for later use.

"Two and three."

His hand moved to the belly button and there he discovered the fourth.

"Spike? Where is the fifth?"

"It's your present, mate. It's up to you to discover it."

Angel's fingers moved to the zip of Spike's jeans. He explored for a while, until…

"Oh…. Oh! Bloody hell! Do that again? Please? Please, sire!"

Yeah, this was the best Christmas ever. A new beginning and a new life, and a world where perfect happiness was allowed. It was all his. And all Angel's hopes and dreams were neatly gift-wrapped in the person of this beautiful man. His childe. His love.

It was a gift that would take forever to explore, but that was ok, because they had eternity.

THE END


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